Dumbledore's Army and The Summer of '98
by Angelique Aspis
Summary: Voldemort is dead, but the 7th years aren't leaving Hogwarts yet. Neville and the D.A. help rebuild the school, while Harry and The Weasleys seek closure, Seamus faces an uncertain future, and the 7th year Head Girl, a Slytherin who hates Hermione, is entangled in their lives.
1. Three Prologues

**Prologue I: Monday, 2 May, 1998. Manhattan Beach, California, 10pm**

The gentle rumble of the surf was restful to the ears of the young man whose dress shoes were filling with sand, and the soft wind felt good on his face. The air smelled wonderfully fresh after the stench of the cursed smoke that blanketed Hogwarts during the Great Battle. It would have been the ideal southern California night, but these were not ideal circumstances. From inside the massive, angular glass house behind the young man came the sobs of a woman and the reassuring murmurs of a man. The young man pulled uncomfortably at his tie, loosening it. He suspected that most American Wizards, geographically and culturally removed from the European wizarding war, were getting ready for bed, or already asleep, not knowing that their counterparts in the UK were celebrating their first day of complete freedom from the despotic dark wizard Lord Voldemort. But the woman crying inside was from England, and the young man had brought her some bad news: her old friend, a Hogwarts professor, had died, and her daughter, a Hogwarts student, was missing.

The young man heard a great glass patio door slide open, then shut, and footsteps descend the house's wooden stairs to the beach. An middle-aged man with greying curly hair and fashionable round spectacles, walked up beside him.

"Linda's not taking it well," said the older man.

"I heard," said the young man. He took a deep breath of the fragrant breeze and stared out over the ocean, his fists clenching in the pockets of his expensive trousers. "It's a shame. Snape was a cool dude."

They were silent for a moment, then the young man said angrily, "What the hell is taking Belial so long? He's supposed to go back with me and look for Serena."

"What's he doing?" asked the older man.

The young man laughed humorlessly. "He wanted to hit Grey Gables before the mobs. Rumor has it there's an ancient elven mirror."

The older man made a thoughtful frown and nodded his head, as if this were something worth investigating. "I'll be very interested to know what he finds."

The younger man was appalled, and it showed on his face. He kept his mouth shut, though, mashing his lips into a thin line and kicking the sand at his feet.

"What's wrong with you?" asked the older man.

"Nothing," mumbled the younger man. He kicked the sand again.

"The why are you acting like a petulant —"

"I'd just like to know why, between the two of us, _I'm_ more concerned about Serena than _you_ are!"

The older man looked sharply at the younger. "Serena's fine. We got an owl from the school. They sent all the Slytherins away before the fighting even started. If I know my daughter, she's probably in Hogsmeade, bitching about the food. Just bring her back here when you find her. And bring that Irish kid with you, too. It's time we knew if he's going to amount to anything." He turned abruptly away and walked purposefully back up the stairs and into his house.

The young man stared after him, feeling angry and frustrated. "Yes, Uncle Sidney," he muttered under hit breath. He turned back toward the ocean, which didn't calm him in the least. He felt inexplicably even more annoyed when a shower of red sparks caught his eye, and another young man in a stylish suit appeared from the darkness. The newcomer was impossibly handsome. His smile shone brightly in the moonlight, and there was a self-satisfied gleam in his eye.

He made a little bow to the frustrated young man and said, "Ready, cous?"

* * *

**Prologue II: Tuesday, 3 May, 1998. Hogwarts, 7:30am**

A small group of students sat around a table in the rubble-strewn Great Hall.

"I can't believe it!" said Padma Patil. She turned to her sister, who was in tears. "Where did you hear it again?"

"Bellatrix LeStrange was shouting it," said Parvati angrily.

"I heard it, too," added Neville Longbottom. "I've told Professor McGonagall."

"It's so unfair!" cried Parvati, "After all Serena did for us, I'll bet it was someone from our side who killed her!"

"I'm not so sure," said Neville. "The other side might've figured out what she was up to."

"What do you mean?" asked Anthony Goldstein. "I mean, sure, she let stuff slide instead of turning us in to the Carrows…."

"She did more than that," said Neville. Parvati and Michael Corner nodded in agreement. "Remember when someone covered these walls with Dumbledore's Army graffiti?"

"Wasn't that someone you?" asked Anthony.

"That someone was _Serena_, after she caught me and Seamus at it and told us were were terrible artists and even worse rebels. She hated the whole graffiti campaign — I'm honestly not sure if it's because they punished the prefects for not catching us, or because she thought our artwork was bad. She was funny that way. Anyway, we tried to explain why we needed to continue, and I don't think even Seamus convinced her that it was a good idea, but for whatever reason she went along with it anyway. When she sent us back to Gryffindor Tower I thought we had failed, but the next morning… well, you remember. It was far better than Seamus and I could've done."

"I didn't know that!" said Padma. "But why? She worshipped Snape. Why would she make trouble for him?"

"Dunno," said Neville, "I guess she hated the Carrows worse than she loved Snape."

"How did Seamus know Serena, anyway?" asked Michael.

Neville answered, "They've known each other since they were small, because their mums are friends."

Running feet and excited shouts echoed from the entrance hall. Parvati twisted her fingers anxiously. "That's Dean and Seamus now! How are we going to tell him?"

"Maybe McGonagall should tell him…" said Michael uncertainly.

"No!" cried Parvati fiercely, "He's our friend. He should hear it from us."

* * *

**Prologue III: Hogwarts, 7:45am**

Minverva McGonagall stood on a ruined balcony, a row of owls sitting on the wide stone railing before her, reading message after message in the early morning light. As she removed each scroll from an owl's leg pouch, it flew away, only to be immediately replaced by one or two more. Minerva would have preferred to sit in her office, but this was the best way to accommodate the parade of birds while simultaneously addressing a steady stream of teachers, students and parents.

Her good friend Pomona Sprout, head of Hufflepuff House and now her deputy headmistress, appeared beside her, carrying a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Here, Minerva," said Pomona, "Take a break. The Ministry can't expect you to keep track of every single thing they send."

Minerva stowed the latest scroll in the pocket of her robe and took the glass. "Thank you, Pomona. Have you talked to the seventh years, the ones who remained?"

"Yes, and I've owled the rest. Some of them are very enthusiastic about staying to repeat their coursework in preparation for their NEWTs. Others…."

"Well, I can imagine," said Minerva, "Right now all they want to do is see their families. Will any of them stay on for a few weeks, to help rebuild the school?"

"Oh, yes, and their parents, too."

A flock of a dozen more owls descended on the porch, hooting and screeching. "Really!" exclaimed Pomona, "What is wrong with the Ministry? Don't they know we have far more important things to do than read their bulletins?"

"Those aren't Ministry owls," said Minerva darkly. "I'm getting dozens of notes from parents who can't locate their children, and from students who haven't been reunited with their parents."

"There's still a whole crowd of underaged students in Hogsmeade," said Pomona.

"Yes, but in the case of some of the Slytherins, the parents have been arrested, and no one can locate other family members."

"Speaking of Slytherins, Asmodeus Serpentia was here earlier, looking for Serena. I told him all the Slytherins were sent away before the battle, but she seems to be missing, and he felt certain she would be here."

Minerva took a long sip of her juice. She didn't like to spread rumours, but perhaps the staff could discover whether this one were true. "I _have_ heard something…."

"What?"

"I have no idea if it's true. Neville Longbottom told me that he and some others heard that Serena Serpentia had been killed."

Pomona looked wary. "Where did they hear this?"

Minerva's face was grave. "Straight from the mouth of Bellatrix LaStrange."

Pomona's hands flew to her face. She always had liked Miss Serpentia far more than had Minerva, or most of the staff, for that matter. "Oh, I hope it's not true! I can't believe Serena Serpentia is dead…."

"She's not!"

Professor Slughorn came huffing across the balcony at a laborious jog, his walrus moustache puffing with each breath.

"How do you know?" asked Minerva, as Slughorn approached them.

"Because of a …" he stopped to cough, "Because of a little problem we have — forgive me!" he wheezed as he gasped for air.

"Are you quite all right?" asked Pomona.

"Yes, yes…." Slughorn waved a hand vaguely in the air.

"How do you know that Miss Serpentia is alive, Horace?" asked Minerva again.

Slughorn coughed. "Because we have a bit of a situation in the dungeons, Headmistress, and it has Serpentia's handiwork all over it."


	2. Potter's Puzzle

**Hogwarts: 8am**

After the great battle, Harry thought he'd have a nice, long sleep in his old four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. There was nothing to prevent it. The room he had shared for so long with his classmates was untouched by the night's destruction, and blessedly quiet. Kreacher had, indeed, brought him a tall ham sandwich, cold bottles of butterbeer and a plate of chocolate biscuits. It was probably also Kreacher who aired the room, which had been abandoned for months after the last of the seventh-year Gryffindor boys went into hiding. Now Harry's old bed was turned down, revealing crisp sheets, fluffy pillows, and a set of pajamas. A cool early-morning breeze blew through an open window. There was no better place for a long nap.

But Harry couldn't sleep. He didn't know why. It wasn't because he was extraordinarily happy that Voldemort was gone, and Harry's arduous task of destroying him was over. It wasn't because he was mourning the people who had died in the great battle. In fact, Harry didn't really feel anything at all, except silly for lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. So what to do next? He didn't want to talk to anyone, but between his cloak and his knowledge of Hogwarts' secret passageways, he was sure he could make his way out onto the grounds for a walk by the lake.

Harry wasn't exactly sure when Kreacher had done it — perhaps Harry had slept a little after all? — but the house elf had put some clean clothes on the end of the bed. Harry bathed and shaved, and feeling more energetic, dressed in a new shirt and jeans. Taking his wand and cloak, he left Gryffindor Tower.

Harry had only been in the dormitory for a few hours, but already the school was being repaired. Corridors that he was sure had been filled with rubble were now clear. Windows that he knew had been shattered were replaced. There wasn't a soul in sight however, and Harry didn't bother to wear his cloak. He supposed that the remaining students had left for home, or were sleeping. It wasn't until he reached the entrance hall that he heard voices.

The doors to the Great Hall were wide open, and Harry could see that it was still a complete mess. Rubble and broken benches littered the floor, there were large, jagged holes in the windows, and everything was coated in dust. Peering through the doorway, Harry saw why the house elves hadn't yet started to clean: a small group of somber-looking students sat at the near end of the Ravenclaw table, quietly talking.

Neville sat at the head of the table. To his right, facing Harry, were Hannah Abbott, Parvati, Padma and Michael Corner. To his left, their backs to Harry, were Jimmy Peakes, Seamus, Dean and Anthony Goldstein. Harry couldn't clearly see his face, but there seemed to be something very wrong with Seamus. Head bowed, he stared hard at the table, mouth set in a firm line. He looked as if he were blinking away tears. Parvati was saying something to him. Harry's heart sank. Had something happened to Mrs. Finnegan?

Harry was torn; should he talk to his friends, or leave them in peace? He wasn't sure himself which he would rather, but he knew that if he stood in the doorway much longer someone would notice him, so he moved a distance away from the opening and leaned his back against the stone wall. He closed his eyes and imagined a restored Wizarding World, and what his classmates might do in it. He was so focused on his own thoughts that he didn't notice someone else walk up to the doorway until he heard a cry of surprise from Parvati.

A shock of ice filled Harry's stomach when he recognized the person standing unsteadily just a few meters away from him. Swaying on her feet, her clothes disheveled and her expression disturbingly unfocused, was a young woman Harry dearly wanted to see in Azkaban. Before he could decide exactly what to do, however, he heard joyful shouts and rushing footsteps.

"Seamus! Look!"

"Serena!"

"I can't believe it!"

"Was she here all along?"

Seamus appeared in the doorway, stopping just in front of the young woman, the expression on his face changing from elation to fear as he realized that she was behaving strangely. He held out his arms, but stopped short of touching her.

"Serena?" he said, uncertainly.

The young woman looked about, as if she didn't know where the voice was coming from. Her eyes fell right on Harry, but she didn't seem to notice him. Finally she looked directly at Seamus, and in a tremulous voice she said,

"Dr. Snape is dead. The Dark Lord killed him."

Closing her eyes, Serena took two wooden steps into Seamus' arms, and bent her head to rest it on his shoulder.

In the moments that followed, Harry saw so many mystifying things that he couldn't keep track of them all. Fascinated by the bizarre sight of salt-of-the-earth Seamus Finnegan embracing prissy Slytherin Serena Serpentia, he quietly stepped to the doorway as the pair returned to the Great Hall.

The small group were all on their feet. Neville appeared pleased, and Parvati anxious, as Seamus escorted Serpentia — of all people! — to a place at the table next to Jimmy and sat down beside her. As everyone else settled themselves, Dean tore off the remainder of his right sleeve and transfigured it into an ornate white and gold cape, which he and Seamus placed over Serpentia's shoulders.

Why was _Dean Thomas_ behaving kindly toward that Death Eater? Didn't he know what she was? Didn't he see what she had done at the Malfoy's the night they were all captured by Greyback and his crew?

"Serena, where have you been?" asked Padma.

"Does she need a Healer?" asked Michael. "Serena, isn't your father a Healer?"

"What happened to you?" asked Parvati. Parvati looked most upset. But why? Unless… unless they had become _friends?_ No….

Parvati continued, "After you left the Room of Requirement…"

Left the _where?_ Serena Serpentia had been in the Room of Requirement? When it was transformed into a hiding place for the entire D.A.?

"...we thought you had gone to the Divination Tower. Then we heard Bellatrix LeStrange say you had died!"

"I don't think she's hearing you, Parvati," said Michael. "She doesn't look right."

"She looks awful!" cried Parvati fearfully. "What's wrong with her?"

Serpentia's jerky movements and unfocused expression reminded Harry uncomfortably of someone who'd been imperiused. But who would want to control her? Harry reviewed all he knew about Serena Serpentia:

She was a Slytherin in his year. He'd heard her refer to Voldemort as "The Dark Lord," a sure sign of Death Eater sympathies. She was some kind of Potions prodigy who took that subject two levels above her year, placing her in the same class as Fred and George. She'd taken many classes with Hermione, and the two got on like oil and water. Hermione was offended that Serpentia was allowed to skip ahead in Potions, and Serpentia often said that Hermione "didn't deserve" her many academic awards, presumably because Hermione was muggle-born. Serpentia didn't get on with Pansy Parkinson, either; Harry had heard them arguing many times during Care of Magical Creatures. She had a lot of other Slytherin friends, though, and had dated Slytherin chaser Adrian Pucey. Naturally, she was a favorite of Snape's, who'd appointed her Head Girl to Blaise Zabini's Head Boy.

There were also things Harry didn't understand about Serpentia. He'd heard her called "California Girl," affectionately by Zabini and maliciously by Parkinson, although she spoke with a British accent and her family owned an estate in the same vicinity as the Malfoy's. He and Ron had seen her at the Quidditch World Cup, surrounded by Slytherin friends who supported Bulgaria, while Serpentia herself was dressed to support the Irish. And now she had somehow gained the trust of the D.A., _and_ the support of Dean Thomas, who really should hate her for vindictively identifying Hermione as a mudblood fugitive at the Malfoy's.

Observing the group with growing curiosity, Harry realized this was the first time he had ever seen a truly serious expression on Seamus Finnegan's face. Joyful Seamus, angry Seamus, disgusted Seamus…. these he had seen. But now Seamus was studying Serena Serpentia with an intense concentration that rivaled anything Harry had seen from Hermione.

From his vantage point, Harry not only saw Seamus' face as it turned toward Serpentia, but his right hand, which held his wand behind Serpentia's back, pointing it ever so slightly at her, as if he were ready to use it at any moment. Now why, if she inspired such friendship from the D.A., was Seamus, the person whom she seemed to know the best, keeping her at guard? Did anyone else notice? Maybe not; they couldn't see.

Not taking his eyes off Serpentia, Seamus called, "Dixie!"

With a crack, there appeared on the table the most unusual house-elf Harry had ever seen. Apparently Harry wasn't the only one surprised by Dixie; most of the table looked startled, and Jimmy said, "That's never a house elf?"

Unlike most elves, Dixie was lithe and graceful, with a delicate face and gently tapering ears. But what was truly surprising was that Dixie wore clothes, and did not seem at all ashamed of it. She wore a soft knit fuchsia-colored tunic over a pair of black pedal-pushers and a pair of black leather clogs.

"What's wrong with _her?_" said Dixie, pointing a long finger directly at Serpentia, who stared off into the distance. Dixie's tone was bold and demanding, her voice low for an elf, and Harry leaned forward to hear better, sure that he had caught a foreign accent.

"Miss Serpentia needs something to eat and drink," said Seamus.

"When's the last time she ate?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't…"

"It sure does matter!"

"No, it doesn't! Just bring her…"

"Whad'she eat last?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, you're not givin' me much to go on!"

"Dixie, please! Just do what you can."

With a look of disgust, Dixie disapparated.

"What the bloody hell was _that?_ said Michael.

"Did you see what she was emwearing?/em said Hannah to the twins. "Aren't they all supposed to wear tea towels?"

"Not _these_ elves," said Parvati, "and I think she looks nice. If I had elves, I would rather they wore…."

Parvati didn't get to describe her ideal elf garb, because Dixie appeared again, carrying a messy tray covered in jumbled food items and a large mug of something that emitted wisps of purple smoke. She set the tray in the center of the table and the mug in front of Serpentia. Jimmy leaned away with a cough, wiping his eyes and saying, "That smells like vinegar!"

"Hot cider vinegar, actually, with horse nettle and honey," said Seamus.

"Horse nettle!" exclaimed Neville, "That's a form of nightshade! Surely that's poisonous!"

But Seamus was already murmuring something to Serpentia, lifting the mug to her. It was obvious he was trying to convince her to take it. It was also obvious to Harry that he still held his wand behind her back. Harry couldn't see Serpentia's face, but he could see her take the mug, inhale the steam deeply, and finally drink.

The room was quiet for a moment, all eyes on Serpentia. Harry saw the expressions on his classmates' faces gradually relax, and he supposed that she must be looking better. The group began to talk again. Seamus lowered his wand and stuck it in the waistband of his jeans.

"Look at the mess that elf made of the tray!" exclaimed Hannah, "The nuts are spilled everywhere, the chocolate looks like it's been melted, and all the biscuits are broken."

"I'm not sure that's a proper elf," said Anthony, "Where did it come from?"

"California," said Seamus, not taking his eyes off Serena, "And no, it's not a proper elf. If you want a Californian elf, you have to convince one to live at your house by offering it bribes."

"You're kidding!" exclaimed Anthony. "I can't imagine my mother bribing an elf! Why would anyone want a Californian elf, if they're such trouble?"

"I'd never even seen a house elf until they all ran up from the kitchens and joined the battle," said Jimmy.

Throughout the conversation, Serpentia gradually began to sit taller, until finally her spine was straight, shoulders back, chin raised. In a rather mechanical fashion, she slowly turned her head to look at Seamus, and everyone fell silent. She appraised him for a moment, and then said in a faint voice, "You look… terrible."

Seamus seemed a little surprised, and said, "I'm not so bad…."

Serpentia looked away, again swiveling just her head, and surveyed the Great Hall. When Harry glimpsed her face in profile, he saw that the haughty look he'd hated throughout their years at Hogwarts had returned. Her voice was stronger and tinged with criticism as she said, "This room looks terrible."

She looked up and down the table, her movements becoming more natural and her expression growing sterner by the moment. She finally declared, "None of you are fit to be seen!"

The group exchanged glances. Padma said gently, "Serena, you look a bit messy yourself."

Serpentia studied her own clothing, and then, with amazing swiftness, she grabbed Seamus' wand from his waistband, turned it on herself, and gave it a flick. Instantly her chic wizarding dress was repaired, Dean's cape was colored green and black to match, her boots were cleaned of mud, and her hair restored to its usual dark, glossy curls. Harry couldn't see her face, but he thought if a _back_ could be said to express snobbery, hers was doing just that.

Eyeing each of her classmates, Serpentia declared, "Fighting is dirty work. However, that is no excuse —" She looked directly at Parvati and Padma and said severely, " - _for your choice of attire_."

Her wand arm shot out, and the Patil twins squeezed their eyes shut. Horrified, Harry drew his wand, but before he could think of the right spell, it was over: the twins were dressed in pretty silk blouses — pink for Parvati, orange for Padma — and their hair was brushed.

"I mean, honestly," continue Serpentia, "It's not as if you didn't have wands in that wretched bunker."

Harry was befuddled, but his classmates had a very different reaction. Jimmy burst into laughter and said, "Stars, Serena! You could at least give us ten minutes to be happy you're not dead before you start in on us!" Hannah rolled her eyes, while the Patil twins looked faintly embarrassed and the rest of the group chuckled along. Michael said to Padma, "Well, at least we know she's back to normal."

Serpentia glared at them and seemed about to speak, but Seamus grabbed her arm and whispered something into her ear. She turned her head, and Harry couldn't see her face anymore.

Finally the group quieted, and Neville looked serious once again. He said, "Serena, were you here for the battle? Do you know what happened? Vol… Voldemort was killed."

Instantly the mood at the table turned somber. Serpentia turned her head to focus on Neville. "I know. I suppose Potter killed him?"

"Yes, right here in the Great Hall."

"Took him long enough."

Harry's jaw dropped in outrage. _Took him long enough?_ Harry could stand it no longer. He gripped his wand tightly and stormed into the hall to arrest Serena Serpentia.


	3. Potter's Predicament

**NOTE:** The following statement by Ron Weasley was written by J.K. Rowling, and appears on page 107 of the first American hardcover edition of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: "Mum, d'you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?"

-

**Hogwarts: 8:20am**

There were cries of "Harry!" "Come join us!" and "Good man, Potter!" as he entered. Neville stood and asked, "How are you, Harry?"

Looking at the expectant faces of his classmates, Harry suddenly realized he had no idea what he should say or do. He was was convinced that Serpentia belonged in Azkaban, but what, exactly, could he do about it? Was a going to demand she accompany him to the Ministry, right now? And if she refused, was he going to… what? Curse her? Duel her? Right now? In front of loyal members of Dumbledore's Army who obviously didn't consider her a criminal?

Like the others, Serpentia had turned to look at him. Harry locked eyes with her, expecting to see something like hatred or disdain in her face, but he detected nothing of the sort; she, too, looked as if she were curious about what he had to say.

He needed more information, he realized. If he knew why this group were acting so friendly toward Serpentia, he'd be in a better position to set them straight. Neville seemed to be in charge; he'd start with him.

"Neville!" he said loudly, "A word?"

Neville looked a little startled, and the others exchanged curious glances. He saw Hannah stare suspiciously at his wand, and he hastily pocketed it as he led Neville to the front of the hall, near the ruined staff table, where they could talk privately but Harry could still keep an eye on Serpentia.

"What's up, Harry?" asked Neville, "We thought you were asleep in the dormitory."

Harry shook his head. "I was. Then I thought I'd take a walk and I saw Serpentia come in here — and hug Finnegan! And you lot acting like she's your friend, instead of turning her over to the Ministry!"

Neville looked confused. "Turn her over to the Ministry for what?"

"For being a Death Eater, of course!"

Now Neville looked concerned, and Harry realized, by his expression, that Neville was worried about him, as if he were ill. "Harry," Neville said warily, "You do remember that not all Slytherins are Death Eaters?"

"I know that! Be _she_ is!"

"No, Harry!" exclaimed Neville, "She isn't! In fact, she used her power as Head Girl to help us get away with D.A. stuff! And she never turned anyone in to the Carrows. If she was a Death Eater, she was a double-agent!"

Harry was incredulous. "Like Snape?"

Neville blinked. "_Snape_ was a double-agent?"

Harry was momentarily confused. "Didn't I tell everyone that?"

Neville shook his head, looking befuddled.

"Well, he was," said Harry, "Turns out he was working for the Order of the Phoenix after all. But he was an exceptional wizard! I can't imagine Serpentia pulling off the same stunt. And I know for a fact that she was in thick with the Death Eaters. Me, Ron and Hermione got captured by them, and Serpentia was there with that lot, at the Malfoy's."

There was an expression of dawning realization on Neville's face. "Maybe that was it…."

"Maybe what was what?"

"I never understood why Serena stuck her neck out for us. She certainly didn't seem to like us. Well, except for Seamus and Parvati. But maybe Snape put her up to it. You know, if he was really on Dumbledore's side after all."

"He was!" said Harry, "But Serpentia…. no way. No WAY."

"Why not? She was obviously his favorite student. And Snape knows Serena's mum."

"How do you know that?"

"Seamus told me."

Harry felt the conversation was taking a wrong turn, but he couldn't prevent it. "And how does _Seamus_ know that?"

A sickening thought dawned on Harry. "No…. not…. Seamus and Serpentia…. no….."

"What?" said Neville, "Merlin, no, Harry!" Neville seemed amused, which annoyed Harry greatly. "Their mums are great friends; they see each other all the time when they're not at school."

Harry was surprised. All those years sharing a dormitory with Seamus, and he'd never heard a word from him about Serpentia. He said, "I've never heard that. You'd think he'd've mentioned it."

Neville said, "He has, actually. But you never really hung out with Seamus and Dean, did you?"

Harry realized this was true. And, to be fair, he'd never bragged about knowing Dudley….

"Come join us, Harry," said Neville, "We'll have some breakfast, if the elves are up to it. You can ignore Serena. But honestly, Harry, she really did help us out this year."

Harry was extremely skeptical, but he followed Neville back to the table, deciding that what he was going to do was question Serpentia. Let them all see her try to explain away her role at the Malfoy's. Let them hear what Dean had to say about it, although from the looks of things, Dean didn't have a long memory. Or perhaps he didn't have an accurate one. All eyes were on Harry as he approached.

"Good morning, Harry!" said Parvati, starting a cascade of friendly greetings and how-are-yous. Even Serpentia looked personable as she said, "Well, Potter, I hear we all owe you a debt of gratitude."

He stared straight at her and said, "I've heard the same about you, but I don't believe it."

There were cries of protest, which Serpentia quelled instantly by raising her hand. "I don't care what you think of me, Potter, " she said, "I only care that you know the truth about Dr. Snape."

"I think I know more about Snape than… hang on; you called him that before: Dr. Snape. What's that all about? He's not a muggle doctor, nor a Healer."

Serpentia raised an eyebrow. In the same measured tones that she so often used in the classroom to devastate other students who answered incorrectly, she said, "Really. You are sure about that?"

Harry opened mouth to shout that he knew far more about Severus Snape than Serpentia would ever know, when two thoughts struck him: First, he had only learned the complete story about Snape and his mother a few hours ago, and there could still be many things about Snape's life that Harry didn't know. And second, if Serpentia actually knew the true story about Severus Snape, Lilly Evans Potter, Voldemort and Dumbledore, and she told it right now, she would reveal information about Harry's family that he wasn't ready for his classmates to hear. He realized that he had has wand in hand and was gripping it tightly; he dropped his arm.

"This isn't the time," he said.

Serpentia tilted her head to the side. "Really. Why not?"

"It just isn't."

Neville broke in. "Is this about what you were telling me before, Harry, that Snape was a double-agent working for the Order of the Phoenix as well as the Death Eaters?"

"We know all of that!" exclaimed Padma, "Harry announced it to the whole hall during the battle."

"He did?" said Neville, "Don't know how I missed _that!_

"Indeed?" said Serpentia to Harry. Still looking at him, she asked in general, "And what did he say?"

Harry felt panic rising in him. He vaguely remembered telling Voldemort that Snape had been devoted to Lilly Potter, and of course the crowd would have heard it, but Harry was not ready to hear the story of Snape and his parents from the mouth of Serena Serpentia. He would _never_ be ready for that. He was immensely relieved when Serpentia suddenly said,

"Never mind. That is, in the main, what I wanted everyone to know. If you want details, you can get them later."

Feeling wrong-footed, Harry realized he had effectively shut down his own plan of questioning Serpentia, and didn't have a way to get back on track. His confusion must have shown in his face, because Anthony asked, "Is everything okay, Harry?" Harry swiftly changed the subject, asking another question that was puzzling him. "Where did everyone go?"

"Most everyone went home earlier this morning," said Neville, "All the parents who fought took their kids back with them, and the Hogwarts Express left an hour ago."

It suddenly occurred to Harry that he didn't know where Ron and Hermione were. He had just assumed that they would be around when he woke, but now he realized that Ron was probably at the Burrow with his family. Parvati seemed to guess what he was thinking and said, "Hermione's asleep in our dormitory, and I saw Ron with one of his brothers and Hagrid earlier on."

"I think I'll go find him," said Harry, but Jimmy said, "No, join us, Harry!"

"Yes, you really look exhausted," said Hannah, "I'm sure you'd feel better if you ate breakfast."

"I'm not very hungry," murmured Harry. The peace he had felt at the end of the battle, when he had ravenously devoured Kreacher's sandwich and biscuits, was long gone, and Harry realized that despite the bursts of anger he had felt towards Serpentia, he was still in a general state of numbness. He was certain that he wouldn't enjoy breakfast, no matter how good the food.

"C'mon, mate, stay a while," said Michael, standing up to make room for Harry, "What else have you got to do?"

Harry looked at Serpentia, wondering if he could really share a meal with her, when something Ron had once said to his mum came to mind. Mrs. Weasley had been extremely anxious about taking the family to Diagon Alley after Voldemort returned, and Ron had said, "Mum, d'you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?" Harry realized that whatever evil might be in Serpentia's heart, she wasn't about to manifest it now. And if he had to wait around for Ron and Hermione, who better to be with than people who knew him well enough to treat him as a friend, and not a celebrity?

"Okay," he said with a sigh, dropping down onto the bench.

"Good man, Harry!" said Michael, taking the seat beside him. Neville resumed his seat at the head of the table.

"Did you hear the news, Harry?" asked Parvati, ""Professor Sprout just told us. Everyone who missed seventh year, or who didn't really learn anything because of the Carrows, can come back for classes before they take their Newts."

Returning to Hogwarts as a student didn't sound at all appealing to Harry at the moment, but from the looks on the other's faces, they were considering it. "Are you all coming back, then?" he asked.

Jimmy grimaced. "_I_ have to!"

"We are," said Padma, indicating herself and her sister, "But Michael and Anthony aren't."

"I feel confident I can pass my NEWTs," said Anthony. "And my Dad already owled me; there's a job for me at the new Ministry."

"What about you, Neville?" asked Harry.

Neville shook his head. "I dunno," he said, "I haven't decided."

"I know where I'm going!" declared Dean, rising. They all looked at him. "To the kitchens! Maybe the elves don't know we're here."

"NO ONE IS GOING ANYWHERE!"

Everyone froze. Professor McGonagall, in a fresh black dress and hat, stormed into the room. She looked furious.

"Professor McGonagall!" exclaimed Neville, rising, "What's the matter?"

But McGonagall had already marched around the table, where she stood behind Parvati and stared daggers at Serpentia.

"Miss Serpentia! You will come with me this instant!"

Seamus was immediately on his feet. "What's this all about?" he demanded.

McGonagall glared at Serena, who sat utterly still, staring right back at McGonagall with a cold expression. "Professor Slughorn cannot enter the Slytherin common room!"

Casually, Serpentia replied, "And you are telling me this because….?"

"Because I know you're behind it! You need to reverse whatever was done and return control of the Slytherin common room to the new administration!"

The new administration was McGonagall's, Harry realized.

Serpentia leaned back on the bench, a nasty smile on her face. In silky tones she said, "Professor Slughorn's incompetence is not my problem. In two weeks, I'll take my NEWTs, and you'll be quit of me forever. Slughorn can enter Slytherin House then."

There was a moment of stunned silence, then a great outburst of conversation as McGonagall sputtered with rage. Harry could barely make out what was being said, because everyone save Harry and Serpentia stood and shouted almost simultaneously.

"You're not taking your NEWTs! You are expelled immediately!"  
"Merlin's beard, Serena, what did you do _now?_"  
"Professor, you can't expel her, not after what she did for us!"  
"Serena, be reasonable! You can't disobey the headmistress!"  
"Don't tell me what I can or cannot do, Longbottom!"  
"Did she seal off all the dungeons?"  
"Serena, it's over! Do as McGonagall says!"  
"Professor, that's unfair! You don't have all the facts!"  
"Maybe it's not her fault, if there are no Slytherins in the whole school…."  
"Let me talk to her, professor!"  
"Serpentia, I order you to…."  
"Professor, please! Listen to us!"

Harry felt as though he were observing the scene from far away. McGonagall was pointing her wand at Serpentia, who didn't seem at all concerned. Indeed, there was an infuriatingly smug look on her face. Harry wondered if it was bravado, or if she really wasn't scared to be on the business end of McGonagall's wand.

The commotion was interrupted by a patronus that looked like an goose, which zoomed around the room and said, in Professor Sprout's voice, "Urgent message for Professor McGonagall! Professor, you're needed in the astronomy tower immediately! Do not delay!" A moment later, a butterfly patronus circled overhead, relaying the same message in the voice of Professor Flitwick.

McGonagall scowled at the patroni as they dissolved. With a thunderous glare, she punctuated her final words by stabbing her wand in the direction of Serena's face. "I'm not through with you, Serpentia! I've already owled your parents! Don't you dare leave this school!" Still radiating rage, McGonagall marched back out of the Great Hall.

The instant she left, Seamus shouted, "Stars, Serena! Why the hell did you do _that?_

Serpentia sounded defiant as she said, "I have my reasons. And I'm certainly not staying around _here_ to defend them!"

Gracefully, she stood, and then swayed on her feet. Seamus caught her and said, "That's it! You have to eat something!"

She glared at him and said, "No. I couldn't stomach it."

"You can and you will!" declared Seamus, gripping her arm tightly, "Or… or…. _someone_ will find out what _really_ happened to you-know-what!"

"You wouldn't!"

"I would!"

Serena and Seamus glared daggers at each other. "And don't even think about sifting out," added Seamus fiercely, "because I'll follow you!"

"You can't!"

"Try me!"

"Let's all eat something!" exclaimed Parvati, a little too brightly. "Dean, why don't you go down to the kitchens and ask the elves if they might get us something?"

"Excellent idea!" said Dean, also a bit too cheerfully, as if he hadn't thought it earlier himself. He hurried from the hall as everyone sat down again.

Harry was consumed with curiosity about Serpentia's reasons for locking up the Slytherin common room, but Seamus, who sat across from him, resolutely changed the subject by rounding on Harry and saying loudly, "Harry, I don't suppose you heard about the one good thing that happened at Hogwarts this year. Professor Grubbly-Plank expanded the Care of Magical Creatures program. There's a proper barn now, and proper pens. She has plans for an entire husbandry program, and I know Professor Sprout supports it. If it runs, as a NEWT student, I can bring my horses to school!"

There was a moment of confused silence, then Michael pointedly asked, "So, Seamus, you're going for a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures?"

"I always liked that subject!" exclaimed Parvati, with a smile that was as little too wide, "My favorite class was when Grubbly-Plank showed us the unicorns."

The group seemed to warm up to the topic, or at least to accept that they shouldn't talk further about the Slytherin common room.

Hannah said, "How can you bring your horses to Hogwarts? Horses aren't magical."

Seamus grinned. "Who says they're not?"

Soon the table was buzzing with conversation about Grubbly-Plank, Hagrid, weird creatures, NEWTS, careers, and if it were ethical to bewitch horses, but Harry heard little of it, because his attention was captured by something very odd that was happening right in front of him.

While he talked with his eyes on his classmates, Seamus he casually handed a succession of broken biscuits and flattened petits fours to Serpentia, who looked at them suspiciously before popping them in her mouth. No one else seemed to notice this strange behavior, even when they were talking directly to Seamus. Harry tried to catch Neville's eye, but before he could, he realized that someone else was, indeed, watching the scene with curiosity — no, amazement.

Professor McGonagall had quietly reentered the hall. Though their backs were to her, it was obvious that she was watching Seamus and Serpentia, and she looked quite thoughtful. She noticed Harry, and silently beckoned to him. As Harry rose, she said, "Longbottom, a word please." Exchanging surprised glances with his friends, whom all jumped when they heard McGonagall's voice, Neville followed Harry and McGonagall into the entrance hall, where she addressed him.

"Mr. Longbottom, explain to me again how Mr. Finnegan knows Miss Serpentia."

Clearly wondering where McGonagall was going with this question, Neville replied, "Well, Seamus told me they met when they were seven. Their mums are friends from Beauxbatons."

"Of course!" said McGonagall, more to her herself than to Neville. She looked is if she were finally putting two and two together. "Eileen left for France after her OWLs. And Eileen and Linda are both members of the Potions Society, along with…." She didn't complete her thought, but turned back to Neville.

"What was it you said about trust? About Miss Serpentia trusting Mr. Finnegan?"

"That's what she said whenever she caught us… well, breaking the Carrow's rules. She'd let it slide if Seamus could convince her it was the right thing to do. She says he's the only Gryffindor she trusts."

McGonagall looked like she was thinking hard. She turned to Harry. "What do you know of Miss Serpentia, Mr. Potter?"

"I know enough to have a hard time believing she did what Neville just said," replied Harry. "I know she's a Death Eater."

"Harry…."

"No, Neville, it's true. Professor, she was at the Malfoy's when we were captured. She's not related to any of that lot, so there wasn't any reason for her to be there, other than some kind of Death Eater gathering."

"Mmmmm….." said McGonagall. "Well, I'm not expelling students because they expressed sympathy with the Death Eaters. All students who are cleared by the Ministry are welcome back at Hogwarts. In Miss Serpentia's case, I'm concerned about how she will behave in the future."

Neville ventured, "Professor, do all these questions mean you might reconsider expelling her?"

"I doubt it," snapped McGonagall, "She never should have been admitted to Hogwarts in the first place!"

Harry had no idea what McGonagall could possibly mean by that, but it looked like her declaration meant something to Neville; he appeared to be realizing something. McGonagall, in turn, looked as though she regretted her confession, and hastily said, "I mean, she really is too outrageous!"

Neville looked frustrated, but he said, "Professor, no matter what you decide, give us a chance to talk to her. She says she has her reasons for sealing off the Slytherin common room; maybe she'll tell us what they are. If not us, then Seamus. He might be able to make her see reason. And, forgive me, Professor, but it doesn't look like you're able to undo her spell."

McGonagall looked resigned. She stared thoughtfully at the Ravenclaw table, around which the students were still talking. "All right. See what you can find out. You, too, Potter." At the look on Harry's face, she said, "She may blurt out something in anger that she wouldn't share in polite conversation." McGonagall twisted her lips. "Not that she was ever very polite."

She turned on her heel and strode away, muttering to herself. The cavernous empty hall carried the words back to Harry, and he found them most puzzling: "Finnegan, of all people! And to think I never considered him much of a wizard."

As McGonagall left, Dean ran over from the direction of the kitchens. "What are you two doing out here? Breakfast will be up directly."

Neville clapped Harry on the shoulder. "C'mon, Harry."

"What did McGonagall want?" asked Hannah of Neville as the three of them returned to the table.

Neville caught Harry's eye and gave him a look that could only be interpreted as 'let me do the talking.' "Nothing much," replied Neville casually, "Just about some things we saw during the battle."

No one wanted to discuss the battle, so no one asked anything further.

"What took you so long?" asked Padma of Dean.

Dean sat down next to Michael and said, "I was checking out the castle. You wouldn't believe all that's been fixed already! I don't know how they're doing it, because I don't see any elves, nor any teachers."

Hannah giggled. "Maybe Filch has an invisibility cloak."

The mental image of Argus Filch hunching under an invisibility cloak and waving his wand at broken items amused everyone; even Harry couldn't help but smile. Harry knew, of course, that Filch was a squib who couldn't repair anything by magic, but he said nothing. A moment later, the wasted tray and Serpentia's mug disappeared and were replaced by tureens of eggs, plates of sausages and bacon rashers, bowls of porridge, stacks of toast, baskets of fruit, pitchers of pumpkin juice and pots of tea. Parvati closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, saying, "It smells wonderful!" As everyone tucked in, Dixie appeared briefly and set before Seamus a plate of fried tomatoes and some kind of purplish yogurt, the latter of which he slid over to Serena without comment. Once again Harry tried to catch Neville's eye, but Neville was busy talking to Hannah about improving the ruined greenhouses.

Harry still hadn't much appetite, but he ate some toast with marmalade and drank some tea. The conversation turned to the castle and how it could be restored. The plates and tureens were nearly empty when an owl suddenly flew over Jimmy and dropped a letter in his lap.

"What the…?" he said. All eyes turned to Jimmy as he opened the envelope and read the parchment. His face fell a little. "It's from my parents," he said, "They're quite angry with me for sneaking back into the castle to fight. They're coming to fetch me this afternoon."

"Well, that's unfair!" said Hannah, "You were fighting You-Know-Who. They should be proud to have a son who's so brave."

Serpentia spoke for the first time since breakfast began, commanding instant attention. Eyes narrowed, with a suspicious look on her face, she asked, "What do you mean, you 'snuck back into the castle' to fight? What were you doing out of the castle?"

"You didn't know?" asked Jimmy, "McGonagall sent all the underaged kids away, only some of us Gryffindors didn't want to go. Me and Coote were supposed to follow a group of Ravenclaws out of the castle, but we got a break and ran to the kitchens to hide until the coast was clear. We found the Creevey's there; they'd sneaked in through the Room of Requirement with all the D.A. members who came back. We made it back upstairs just as the fight began outside. Then we got separated. I saw Coote and his Dad earlier, but I haven't seen the Creeveys. I suppose they've gone home."

What little flavor Harry had found in his toast turned to ash in his mouth. He did not — a million times did not — want to tell Jimmy what had happened to Colin Creevey. He realized a moment later that he didn't have to. The table grew unnaturally quiet as Parvati and Neville exchanged looks.

"What?" said Jimmy with some alarm, "What do you know?"

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," said Parvati gently, "But near the end, Colin was killed."

A horrendously loud CRACK, like the snap of an immense whip, made Harry jump in his seat. He looked around for the source and saw the others all staring at Serpentia. They looked frightened, and no wonder: Serena was livid, her eyes fierce, her teeth actually bared like a wolf. She leaped to her feet, and as she did, shoved against the heavy wooden banquet table. Improbably, it moved.

"Unbelievable! I spent ALL YEAR keeping that kid alive, and THIS is the thanks I get!"

Serpentia glowered at the group, most of whom looked as if they wished they had invisibility cloaks. Neville opened and shut his mouth several times like a goldfish, but couldn't force the words. Seamus stood and firmly put his hands on Serena's arms, whispering something to her that Harry couldn't hear. She raised her arms and threw him off. Finally Neville found his voice and stammered, "I'm sure Colin wasn't thinking about…."

"You're right! He wasn't thinking!"

"I mean, he had the best of intentions, to fight You-Know-…."

"He intended NOTHING! He planned NOTHING! And he accomplished NOTHING but random vandalism! All that time I spent hiding his crimes, all that for nothing! All that effort WASTED."

Her outrage was stunningly selfish, but Harry recognized something else, too: sincerity. No matter how twisted her priorities, it seemed certain to Harry that Serpentia had, indeed, worked to save Colin from the Death Eaters. He realized she must have done something similar for Dean, who had also spent the year on the run. Certainly at the Malfoy's…. Harry had thought it a great stroke of luck, that Serpentia had mistaken Dean for Michael Corner. But she couldn't have; Dean was Seamus' best friend, and Serpentia was apparently a great friend of Seamus. She had lied, right there in that nest of vipers. If only she had done the same for Hermione….

Serena flounced back down on her seat and folded her arms, a stormy look on her face.

Harry head Hannah say, "I'm sorry, Jimmy; I know he was your friend."

Parvati said, "Maybe your parents will let you stop at the Creevey's on the way home. Dennis told me the whole family was traveling there from all over England to plan the funeral."

Jimmy was silent, and no one quite knew what to say after that. Harry was thinking that it might be a good time to find Ron, when two strange men appeared at the entrance of the Great Hall. They both appeared to be around Bill Weasley's age. One was impossibly handsome and the other very ugly. They both wore elegant black muggle suits with black shirts and shimmering dark grey ties, their hair slicked back in the latest muggle style.

"Who are they?" asked Padma. Everyone turned to look, then Serena turned back to face Seamus. She wore an annoyed expression as she said, "This can't be good. My father probably wants me home."

She rose, and Seamus rose with her, stopping her with a hand on her arm. "You can't leave _now_. You have to clear things up with McGonagall, so you can take your NEWTs!"

Serena sneered. "McGonagall has no power over _NEWTs_."

"But she told you not to leave," said Neville, "And what about the Slytherin common room?"

Serena snorted. "They'll get in…. when I say so."

As Serena stepped over the bench, the ugly man pointed at Seamus and said, "You too, Finnegan."

Seamus sighed. "I'd better see what this is about." He turned to Dean. "See ye later, mate."

"Wait!" cried Parvati, rising, followed by Neville. She addressed Serena. "You're really going? Are you coming back?"

Serena raised an eyebrow and said archly, "Ask McGonagall." She paused, and said more seriously, "But I doubt it. No matter. I was only ever here to study with Dr. Snape."

Parvati and Neville looked distressed, but they didn't seem to know what to say. Serena turned to Harry.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter. I expect I will see you again soon."

Then she turned to Neville and nodded once. "Mr. Longbottom. You were… an exemplary leader."

Without another word or glance back, Serena joined the strange men, Seamus following behind. A moment later the four of them had left the hall.

"She can't leave like this!" cried Parvati, scrambling over the bench. She rushed out of the hall, only to return a moment later, exclaiming, "They're gone! How could they have disappeared so fast?"

"You can't apparate out of the castle!" said Michael. But Harry no longer believed in infallible spells. Serena apparently knew magic that was beyond both Slughorn and McGonagall. Who knew what else she could do? He needed to talk to Hermione, and for that matter, McGonagall. He rose and said, "I have to go, too. I want to catch Ron and Hermione."

He exchanged goodbyes with the group. "We'll all be here for a few more days," said Anthony, "Helping to clean up, you know. I don't suppose you feel like doing that, but join us for meals if you're around. Ron and Hermione, too."

Just then the patronus that looked like a goose zoomed around the room. "That'll be Sprout looking for me," said Neville, "I'll walk out with you, Harry."

Once in the deserted entrance hall, Neville asked, "You sticking around, Harry?"

"I dunno," Harry replied. "I haven't really thought about what I'll do next."

"Get some sleep," said Neville. He held out his hand, and Harry shook it. As Neville departed, he said, "And Harry…. thanks. For everything."


	4. Finnegan's Future

**Hogwarts: Noon**

For the first time in his life, Seamus Finnegan was free to do anything he chose…. and he hadn't the faintest idea what he wanted to do next. His best friend, Dean Thomas, had already decided to spend an additional year at Hogwarts to make up for the one he had spent on the run. Should Seamus repeat his seventh year, or just go ahead and take his NEWTs? And once he took them, should he accept one of the jobs he knew were waiting for him in Ireland, or should he try for a career with the Ministry of Magic? And were Serena's cousins actually hinting that he should join them in Los Angeles? He couldn't imagine moving there, any more than he could imagine actually living in that weird glass box of a house Serena's American-born father built on Manhattan Beach. Having a muggle father hadn't prepared Seamus for wizarding families who lived cheek-by-jowl with their muggle neighbors.

Seamus wasn't even sure what he wanted to do with the rest of his _day_. He could be forgiven that, he reckoned, considered all of its ups and downs. At dawn he'd been ecstatic, celebrating the death of You-Know-Who. A few hours later he was excited to learn that he could return to Hogwarts for a proper NEWT year. Then he had received the crushing news that Serena had been killed, but before he could even believe she was really gone, she'd appeared in the Great Hall, very much alive. At first he'd thought that You-Know-Who had scrambled her brains; then he thought that McGonagall was going to have her arrested, or at least banned from Hogwarts. Finally, at almost the moment that he began to believe he and Serena might get their NEWTs in Care of Magical Creatures together, her family had summoned her so they could fight about what she was going to do next, with none of the plans including an eighth year at Hogwarts. Which was really unfair, Seamus thought, because she hadn't wanted to attend Hogwarts in the first place.

So here were his options for the afternoon: His mam and dad were waiting for him to return to Naas, his friend Dean was about to break the news to his family about what had really happened the past year and wanted Seamus there for moral support, Neville had asked if he'd help rebuild the greenhouses, McGonagall wanted to see him and Neville about something that he was sure had to do with Serena and he was sure he didn't want to discuss, and Serena's cousins wanted him to visit the campus of the University of Magic, California, Los Angeles. And here's what Seamus wanted to do: sleep. Which he shouldn't be faulted for, he thought, all things considered.

Asmodeus and Belial had sifted him to Cali and back again, which was nice of them, because Seamus hated to apparate over long distances, and he didn't quite have the hang of sifting, no matter what he'd told Serena. So now there he was in the Gryffindor common room, hoping that his old dorm bed was in any kind of useable condition.

Seamus heard footsteps in the stairwell, and Harry emerged from the tower, followed by Ron and a red-headed young man who could only be a Weasley.

"Hey, Seamus," said Harry.

"Hey Harry, Ron," said Seamus. "You feeling better, Harry?"

"Yeah, loads. Thanks," said Harry. "What're you doing back here? I thought you'd left."

Seamus ran his hand over her hair and yawned. "Nah. I haven't slept in days. Thought I'd catch a kip. You?"

Harry gestured towards the red-headed stranger. "Ron's brother was feeling nostalgic."

"Charlie Weasley," said the stranger, coming forward and extending a hand, "Former Gryffindor."

Seamus shook his hand. "Seamus Finnegan. Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor."

Charlie grinned. "I guess that's true. You from Ireland?"

"Don'cha know it."

"Great dragons there."

"That's what I hear. Never saw one myself. Ministry must keep 'em tight under wraps."

"Well, you know, muggles everywhere now. Shame, really. Muggles would like them."

Seamus found himself laughing. "You don't know many muggles, do you?"

Charlie considered this, then said, "Come to think of it, I don't really know any at all."

"I hate to break this up," interrupted Ron, sounding not at all sorry, "But Hermione's waiting for us."

"Yeah, sorry," said Harry, much more sincerely, "but I really have to talk to her."

Seamus turned his attention back to Harry. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for…."

"Really, it's not necessary. I just did what had to be done."

"Well, it was big o' ye, to give her a chance like that."

Harry looked bemused. "What are you talking about?"

Now it was Seamus' turn to be confused. "What are _you_ talking about?

Harry shook his head. "Let's start over."

"Merlin, Harry! You need a kip, too! I was thanking you for being cool about Serena."

"Who are you talking about?" asked Ron, "Not Serena Serpentia? She's not here?"

Harry said hastily, "I'll explain later, Ron."

"She was Voldemort's biggest fan!"

"Not actually," said Seamus, "Her family never supported You-Know-Who."

Ron looked doubtful. "Even if they didn't, she's no one I'd like to see again. Serpentia was the president of the "I hate Hermione" club!"

Seamus looked sheepish. "Well, that much is true."

"I've heard of her!" said Charlie unexpectedly.

"Probably on a "wanted" poster!" sneered Ron.

"No!" said Charlie, "Hagrid mentioned her. He said she has a knack for handling thestrals."

"When was this?" asked Ron.

"Oh, at Bill's wedding, I believe."

"Good memory!" said Harry.

"You don't forget the name of someone who can train thestrals."

"Well, then don't forget my name, either," said Seamus, "because I aim to be able to do it, too!"

"What?" exclaimed Harry, "Since when have you been able to…?" He caught sight of Ron, who looked very impatient, and dropped the question. "I'll catch you later, Seamus. Have a good nap." He clapped Seamus on the arm and followed Ron to the portrait hole.

"Nice to meet you," said Charlie, shaking Seamus' hand once again. And then Seamus was alone in the common room once more, hoping fervently that he'd be left in peace for a few hours.

-

**Hogwarts: 6pm**

Seamus woke in his four-poster at sunset feeling very rested, only to leap up in terror when he realized that someone was sitting on his bed. He aimed his wand before even looking at the intruder; then he heard familiar laughter. He lowered his wand and realized that his hands were shaking.

"Merlin, Serena!" he shouted, thoroughly annoyed. "You scared the piss out of me!" Serena laughed some more. She was looking particularly beautiful, which was a sign that she was capable of doing something particularly evil. She'd done something to her hair that made it perfectly straight and iridescently shiny. She also wore an outfit that was utterly inappropriate for any part of the wizarding world. From her neck hung a large, colorful sequined butterfly, which covered her from collarbone to lowest rib. Her shimmering skin-tight black trousers rested at her hip bones, exposing several inches of bare midriff and the sparkling diamond that hung from her navel ring. Save for two thin strings that probably did nothing to keep the whole contraption up, her back was entirely bare. The outfit didn't necessarily mean anything, however. Serena's California cousins hung around the house in clothes that muggles would wear clubbing. The fact that Seamus _knew_ what clothes muggles would wear clubbing showed that he had been spending entirely too much time with the Serpentias. Voldemort's brief reign had interrupted that, and it was probably better it didn't resume. UMCLA was a bad idea.

On the other hand, he did feel relieved to see Serena. For the five minutes that he thought she had died, his life had felt sickeningly empty. He hadn't realized until that moment just how intertwined their lives had become. And it had nothing to do with romance, or sex, or any such relationship. His friends in Ireland, the wizarding ones who attended Gola Prep and the muggle ones he knew through horse riding, were always hoping to get a glimpse of Serena and her friends from the Academy of Magic. If any of the Cali crew deigned to talk to them, they bragged about it for weeks. He knew that any typical boy, viewing Serena as she was dressed now, would be filled with desire. But that was the funny thing about being surrounded by such creatures for an extended period of time; you got used to it. It became normal. Now Seamus was happiest when Serena wanted to hang out with his family. She was more casual, more relaxed, "more witchy," as his mam said. Certainly friendlier. Which she definitely wasn't going to be tonight, he knew. When Serena was done with something, it completely left her mind, as if it never existed, and Seamus suspected that any empathy she had felt for anyone in the wizarding world this past year had died with Voldemort. Just as well she'd dropped by then; it looked like he was back on the job his mam had tricked him into ten years ago: keeping Serena in line. Odd that he didn't feel more put-out.

"What?" demanded Serena.

"Sorry?"

"You're looking at me funny."

Seamus sat back down on the bed with a sigh. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too."

"I didn't mean it that way. You know I want you to come back to Naas. Mam owled me; she's done up the guest room for you. But I thought your father wanted you to stay in Cali."

"Mum overruled him. She wanted to see if the mobs raided Cherrystone."

"And had they?"

"If they tried, they didn't get in." She gave a snort and a nasty smile. "They were elsewhere, though. You should've seen what they did to Grey Gables."

"Which one is that?"

"The Malfoy's. Trashed." Serena looked gleeful, in a disturbingly vengeful way.

"Can't say I'm fussed," said Seamus.

Serena scowled. "They burnt down Dormingroof, though. That was wrong. They weren't even Death Eaters."

"Which one was that?"

"The Parkinsons. Don't you know anything? Why don't you know anything?"

"Amazingly enough, I'm not up on my fancy English houses. Why do you care, anyway? You hate Pansy Parkinson."

"I don't hate her _house_."

"Maybe you can go back and accio some valuables out of the rubble."

A look of wonderment came over Serena's face, followed by a naked greed as she hissed, "I could _do_ that!"

"Stars above!" Seamus was shouting for the second time in as many minutes. "I was joking!" _Now_ he was feeling put-out. He got up and pulled a fresh shirt from his wardrobe, which had been miraculously untouched during his absence. He pointed a finger a Serena. "There is something seriously wrong with you!"

Serena didn't reply; she just grinned and kicked her legs back and forth against the bed.

"I'm not kidding! You are _not_ looting your neighborhood!" Seamus absently grabbed a peppermint from a box on his night table and tossed it to her. She ate it while Seamus buttoned his shirt. When he finished, she asked, "So what have you been doing?"

"Since this morning? Sleeping. Showering. Perhaps you've noticed I'm no longer covered in blood."

Serena said abruptly, "I'm bored. Let's go somewhere."

"Where?"

"I don't care. I've been stuck in this horrid castle for months. Ibiza."

Seamus wasn't sure he'd heard right. "Come again?"

"Mum wants to check our holiday home in Antibes tomorrow morning. We could meet her there for breakfast and then crash on the deck."

Another sign that he had spent too much time with the Serpentias before the war was that he knew what "crash" meant. Also, he knew Serena wanted to spend the entire night clubbing on a Spanish island. Also, he knew that her American and French friends were still in school and couldn't join them, so she would be calling her cousins, who were older. And most importantly, he knew it would be a good five hours before the clubs got going, so he had plenty of time to divert her. Because Seamus really hated that whole scene. It was the opposite of everything he enjoyed in life. The more he thought about it, the more strongly he resolved that Dean, Neville, Hogwarts, the whole state of California and the entire country of Spain could do without him, and he was heading home. Preferably with Serena, because Merlin knew what she was capable of right now.

"It's too early for Ibiza," said Seamus casually, "Let's stop at home first. I want to see my folks."

Serena made a face. "_I_ don't."

"Yes, you do. You love it when Dad makes a fuss over you. And there's two new babies; a pair of fillies."

He had her. She might think nothing of vaporizing baby muggles, but she loved baby animals.

She pretended to consider. "Maaaaabye…." Then she dramatically flopped on Seamus' bed, head on his extra blanket, feet on his pillow. With a sly grin, she asked, "Got any chocolate?"

Got her again! He opened the drawer in his night table and opened a box within. He showed her a dark chocolate truffle and said, "You can have _this_ when we get home."

Serena snarled, which of course no longer had any effect on Seamus. He said, "I'll be in the jax — stay here 'till I get back."

This was, as it turned out, a little too much to expect.

-

Seamus was drying his hands when golden sparks came shooting up through the washroom floor. At first he was confused; while the D.A. was hiding in the Room of Requirement, golden sparks meant that someone was in distress. But why would anyone send them now? Then he remembered who was supposed to be waiting for him.

"Merlin!" he shouted, rushing back to his dorm. Sure enough, Serena was gone. His nightstand drawer was open, and so was the box of truffles. How….? He hadn't given her any…. Oh, stars! He had, by touching them! Seamus grabbed his wand and raced downstairs.

As he burst into the common room, he saw the source of the sparks, and thank the heavens it looked like a false alarm. Dean, Serena and Parvati were before the fireplace. Serena, who was pointing her wand at Parvati, had a very satisfied look on her face. Parvati, however, was distressed. She was wearing a ruffled, pale yellow strapless mini dress and a matching pair of heels, and while the outfit was quite flattering, it obviously made her very uncomfortable. She had her arms crossed over her chest and she looked liked she wanted to run away, if only she could figure out how to move in those shoes.

"You look fantastic!" Dean was saying. He noticed Seamus and said, "Tell her she looks great!"

Seamus thought quickly. How could he put Parvati out of her misery without fighting Serena? He had it! "It's not finished," he said, "She needs one of those goat-chin-hair things."

"You're right!" said Serena.

Parvati stared at Seamus in horror, but she needn't have worried; a moment later Serena settled a sumptuously soft yellow pashmina throw around Parvati's shoulders. Parvati wrapped the pashmina around herself gratefully. She said haltingly, "This dress… it's… it's very beautiful, Serena, but… perhaps not _quite_ the right thing for dinner with my parents in Hogsmeade."

Serena looked annoyed, but resigned. "Whatever…." She flicked her wand once in a particular fashion, which Seamus recognized as the way she reversed spells. Instantly Parvati was wearing a gold-embroidered sari of bright pink, orange and blue, which was undoubtedly what she had planned to wear to meet her family. She appeared much relieved, and said, "I really should be going…."

"Wait!" commanded Serena. Parvati looked apprehensive, but Serena merely created a new pashmina, this time in bright pink, and wrapped around Parvati, who was now delighted.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed. "This is perfect! I promise to take good care of it!"

"You'd better!" called Serena after her as Parvati hurried out the portrait-hole.

"Do me next!" Dean exclaimed, "One of those smart suits, like you see on Sloane Street!"

Serena lifted her chin and stared him down in a most critical way. "And do you promise to do something fun in it?"

"Yeah!" said Dean, "This weekend I'm taking Luna to see muggle London!"

"All right then…." And with some graceful movements of Serena's wand, resulting in shimmering waves of golden light and colorful sparks, Dean's work shirt and jeans were transformed into a very fashionable and flattering suit.

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Dean, looking down at himself in delight. "Thanks, Serena!"

"And now you…." said Serena, turning to Seamus.

"Oh, hey, whoa!" he said, raising his wand to block her spell. "We're leaving for Naas, remember? _You_ might want to change." He knew she wouldn't, of course.

"Seamus," said Dean, "Any chance you could help me talk to my folks?"

"Aw, Dean, you don't need me…." Soon Seamus was so busy conversing with Dean while simultaneously keeping an eye on Serena, who was using her wand to draw clothing designs in the air, that he didn't notice the portrait-hole open and two people enter. He was startled to be called by name.

"Oh, good, Mr. Finnegan, I've been wanting to talk to…. Merciful heavens! How did she…? What is she….? Explain yourself, Miss Serpentia!"

Professor McGonagall was so shocked she looked a little unsteady on her feet. Dean rushed to take her arm, which was fortunate, because Neville, who had accompanied her, stood transfixed, mouth open, staring a Serena. Seamus wondered what surprised him more: Serena's presence in the Gryffindor common room, or her attire.

Again, Seamus had to think fast, and he decided that any kind of conversation would just make things worse. Serena had to leave, quickly, and by ordinary means. But how to get her past McGonagall without a word? He had it: Two birds with one stone. He gripped his wand tightly. Serena was going to kill him.

"Sorry, Professor!" he said loudly, crossing quickly to Serena. "Serena was just telling us she's agreed to open the Slytherin common room." While he was talking, Seamus silently transfigured all the tassels on the Gryffindor couch cushions into pygmy puffs, which quickly chewed through their tethers and scattered. Before Serena could even open her mouth to protest, she was distracted by a herd of adorable little puff-ball creatures that climbed up her legs. Seamus didn't know if she would pet them or eat them, but either way, she wouldn't contradict him.

The others were also occupied with the pygmy puffs as Seamus firmly gripped Serena's arm and pulled her toward the portrait hole. She was too fascinated by the peeping puffs, which she was trying to gather in her hands, to ask where they were going. They were halfway out the door when McGonagall said, "Wait! Mr. Finnegan…."

"Sorry 'bout this, Professor!" Seamus called out, as if Serena's visit to Gryffindor tower were McGonagall's reason to call him, "Won't happen again! Heading off to Slytherin now!"

Serena finally realized what was happening and said, "What? No we're not!" but the portrait of the Fat Lady had already swung shut and her words were lost to McGonagall.

"I know we're not! And keep your voice down!" said Seamus fiercely, as he continued to pull her along.

"Then where are we going?"

"We're leaving Hogwarts!"

Serena tried to pull her arm away. "Well, then, slow down and I'll sift us out!"

"Not a chance! Who knows where you'll take us?"

"We're going to Naas!"

"Really?" Seamus stopped.

"Nope!" Serena gleefully pulled her arm away. Seamus aimed his wand, but Serena waved her hand and it went flying, along with some puffs. Stars! He'd forgotten she didn't need a wand for that.

"Accio that back!" he demanded. Serena just posed with a few pygmy puffs to her cheek and smirked. Seamus could feel the blood rushing to his face. "In Merlin's name, Serena!" he growled, trying not to shout, "I'm just trying to protect you!"

And just like that, everything changed. It was as if someone had cast a _petrificus totalus_ spell on the entire castle. Seamus had assumed that he and Serena were alone in the corridor; it was until all the paintings, all the ghosts, all the mice, all the pygmy puffs were stilled that he appreciated how seldom anyone at Hogwarts was truly alone. At first he thought the Serena was frozen, too, but she was merely standing quietly, very quietly, with an odd expression on her face.

No, not an odd expression, he realized, just unthinkable for Serena. It was the sort of expression he might expect from Parvati or Lavender after he'd done them a favor and they were about to jump up and down and hug him. Only Serena never jumped for joy, and she certainly didn't fling herself into people's arms. Seamus had experienced many weird things while hanging around Serena. The frozen castle didn't even crack the top ten, but a hugging Serena would definitely be the freak flag at the top of the hill.

However, Serena didn't jump, or hug, or even move. She just asked, "Really?"

Seamus closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "Really."

He heard something woosh by his head. When he opened his eyes, Serena was offering him his wand. There was a smile on her face — an openly greedy one. Seamus wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved. He took his wand.

"Asmo said you would become my _preasul_. I didn't believe him. This changes everything."

"What? You're crazy! It doesn't mean any such thing! All I meant was…" And then a terrible thought struck Seamus: The castle, the way it froze the moment he'd said….

Serena gripped his arm and he felt himself dissolving. No, this was wrong, it was all horribly wrong! This wasn't what his mam had planned at all.


	5. Finnegan's Fire

**Naas, Ireland: 6:30pm**

Of all the places Seamus thought they might rematerialize, his own front yard was the one he had least expected. But there they were, in the front garden, and his dad was walking out the front door, all smiles, to give him a hug.

"Well, lad! How've you been keepin'?"

The moment felt surreal to Seamus. His stomach was still icy with panic at the thought that he had somehow become a _praesul in superficies_. And yet it felt really good to hug his dad and know, truly know, that he was all right. Seamus was sure that his muggle father had no idea how dangerous the Wizarding World had become in the past year, nor how bad things had been at Hogwarts. His mam probably hadn't a clue about Hogwarts, either, although she certainly knew about the great battle. He wondered what she had told his dad. Judging by his dad's casual greeting, not much.

Mr. Finnegan stepped back and appraised the bruises that remained on Seamus' face. "You've not been fighting?"

He definitely knew nothing. Seamus hoped Serena wouldn't say anything. He tried to catch her eye, and realized with a start that she wasn't beside him. Where had she gone? Had she even sifted there with him at all?

"Did you see Serena?" he asked, looking around the garden.

"Aw, now, don't change the subject."

Seamus was momentarily confused; then he realized that his dad was still talking about his face. He mustered what he hoped was a convincing grin and said, "Don't worry, Dad. Just an angry Hippogriff. Nothing to worry about." He felt pretty sure that his dad didn't know anything about Hippogriffs. "Mam inside?"

"Yeah, sure. Say, where's your trunk?"

Again, Seamus was caught off-guard. He hadn't laid eyes on his trunk in months. It must have been in his dormitory this afternoon, but he hadn't even noticed. He wondered how many lies he was going to tell his dad tonight. He wondered if he could finally tell the truth. No, not yet. "It's not here?" he asked, "Well, no worries, it'll catch up to me."

He clapped his dad on the arm and went inside, Mr. Finnegan following behind. He could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen, and he sincerely hoped it was dinner. At the Finnegan's, you couldn't be sure; his mam was an expert potioneer, and you never knew what she might be brewing.

"Mam? I'm home!" he shouted as he entered the kitchen. His mother turned away from her cauldron and gave him a long, hard squeeze. Seamus could tell that even though they had owled a few times that day, she was deeply grateful to see him home safe. As he hugged his mam, a few things caught his eye: through the kitchen window he could see the horses in the pasture; on the counter was an incredibly complex apparatus brewing several potions, and sitting on the dinner table…. Seamus caught his breath. It was Serena, dressed like an ordinary Irish muggle girl in a loose pink sweater, jeans and runners. She'd returned her hair to its natural curls, and didn't seem to be wearing much in the way of makeup. She gave him a little smile and waved her fingers in greeting.

Seamus was greatly relieved. It looked like Serena had given up her plan to spend the night clubbing in Spain. Hopefully she'd stay in the guest room, and he could get some answers. Because working for the Serpentia family did not play any part in his future plans, nor was it what his mam had in mind all those years ago when she gave Seamus a plate of broken biscuits and told him to hand them to little Serena one at a time. In fact, it was Serena who was supposed to serve _him_.

-

Mrs. Finnegan, born Eileen Byrne, had attended Hogwarts with Seamus' least favorite professor, Severus Snape. She was a Ravenclaw who excelled at Potions, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. The Byrnes were an old Irish pureblood family who lived in County Kildare. Eileen was the first Byrne to forgo a Gola Prep in favor of Hogwarts, and she also became the first Byrne to attend school on the Continent. The summer before her sixth year, she fell madly in love with Joseph Finnegan, a muggle boy from Galway who had been accepted to a culinary school in Provence. In order to be closer to him, Eileen convinced her parents to enroll her in Beauxbatons Academy, where she became friends with Linda D'Arcy, a British witch who had relations in Nice. This made for some excellent school holidays, especially after Linda met American-born Sidney Serpentia at Durmstrang during a potions competition. Sidney was a student at the Academy of Magic, California, Cupertino, but he was spending a year at Durmstrang to learn advanced dark magic from Professor Igor Karkaroff.

After graduation, Sidney Serpentia became both a wizard healer and a non-wizarding physician. This took many years of study, but eventually Sidney earned a huge salary performing plastic surgery on wealthy muggles at Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. Joe Finnegan got a job as a sous-chef at a posh restaurant in Naas — such luck it was that no one else applied for the job; it was as if no one else had seen the ad! — and eventually worked his way up to executive chef. Eileen and Linda were both invited to join the very exclusive and prestigious International Society of Extraordinary Potioneers. Only one person from each country is invited to join each year, and that particular year the inductees included Eileen Byrne Finnegan of Ireland, Linda D'Arcy Serpentia of United States, Miriam Lamothe Zabini of Haiti, Nirav Patil of India, and in a surprise move, newly-graduated Hogwarts alum Severus Snape of England. It was very rare for wizards to be welcomed into the Society straight out of school, and the appointment caused quite a stir. Linda threw a massive party for all the inductees at her new home on Manhattan Beach, and Eileen insisted that her former classmate Severus attend. In the history of parties there has probably never been a person more out-of-place than Severus Snape was that night, but it was very fortunate for him that he stayed, because it was through Linda Serpentia that Severus attained the most satisfying teaching experience of his career.

-

When Seamus Finnegan was seven years old, he had a most extraordinary summer. Being seven, he had no idea just how unusual a time he had. It started one day in June when his mam thought he was out playing with his friends. Seamus snuck inside the house to steal some biscuits for the gang. He was disappointed to find his mam in the kitchen with her friend Mrs. Serpentia, but his disappointment gave way to excitement when he heard snatches of their conversion. They were talking about adventures! At least, that's how their words sounded to little Seamus, who didn't know enough to be scared when he heard phrases like "Death Eaters" and "Dark Lord" and "You-Know-Who." To him, they meant fascinating moving photos in the Daily _Prophet_, featuring duels and fires and explosions.

"I don't know what you're complaining about, Linda," his mam was saying, "You knew what the man was when you married him."

"You…. you _know?_ said Mrs. Serpentia, wide-eyed.

"Know what, exactly?" asked his mam suspiciously.

Mrs. Serpentia shook her head. "Never mind. I just…. never realized the extent of it."

"The extent of what?" asked Eileen suspiciously, "His love of dark magic?"

"Well…. you could say that…."

Eileen Finnegan crossed her arms and stared sternly at her friend. "Linda D'Arcy Serpentia! You are not exactly a pillar of virtue yourself! And now you're complaining about a man who's done nothing but be himself! And really, nothing he does is ever all that bad."

"But…."

"Did he or did he not refuse to meet with the Death Eaters?"

"He did…."

"Even when Severus Snape promised him piles of gold and a position of great power in "the new empire of the Dark Lord"?

"That's true, but…"

"And when You-Know-Who himself arrived at your door, did he not send him packing?"

Mrs. Serpentia sounded defeated. "He did…."

Seamus' mam brandished her wand and vigorously stirred the potion in her cauldron. "How he managed to live to tell the tale is beyond me!"

The kitchen was silent for a moment, then Seamus' mam set her wand down and turned to her friend. "He was on the right side of the war, and that's all that matters. And now you have a beautiful home and a successful potions school and a fine daughter."

"But that's just the problem!" cried Mrs. Serpentia, "Serena's _not_ fine! She's…. she's…. she's turning out just like his side of the family!"

"Meaning what?"

Mrs. Serpentia seemed to be at a loss. She waved her hands absently, as if hoping to conjured the words out of the air. "Selfish…. greedy…. thoughtless…. She's only seven, but she and her friends are already the little queen bees at school. They dress just so, they act just so, and I'm afraid they can be very unkind. And I know she gets it from her cousins!"

"Well, for heavens' sake, that's not something you inherit! It's something she's learned, and she can unlearn it. Bring her here for a few weeks. Seamus and his friends won't tolerate such nonsense. I'm sure after a few days she'll be having too much fun with the dogs and the ponies to worry about how she's dressed."

Seamus scowled. The conversation had already turned boring, and now his mam wanted him to play with a snobby girl from America. He wasn't sure what was worse: that she was mean, or that she was a girl. But he was sure of one thing: he wasn't going to let her ride his pony!

The next day, all thoughts of unwanted visitors were chased from Seamus' mind by something truly thrilling: He was to be allowed his own wand! The Irish Ministry of Magic had decided that the British laws for underage magic, which they had been imitating, were impractical, and that Ireland would follow the American model instead. This meant that Irish parents had the right to instruct their children in the use of wand-aided magic, and to set their own rules for wand use in their own homes.

Seamus' mam was enthusiastic about the new laws; she envisioned Seamus becoming an incredible potioneer. Seamus' dad was scared out of his mind, because even without a wand, Seamus was a constant threat to the structural integrity of the house. Much to Mrs. Finnegan's chagrin, Mr. Finnegan was proven right, and Seamus had a new rule to follow: No wand without Mam.

Still, Seamus had a great deal of fun learning to use his wand, and between that and playing Quidditch on toy broomsticks with his wizarding friends and riding ponies with his muggle friends, he completely forgot about the impending visit by the bratty American girl, until one evening he ran inside from the barn and was confronted by the strangest child he had ever seen.

At first he thought she was a muggle, judging by her unusual clothes, although he'd never seen any muggle clothes like them: she wore a short, swingy, bright pink sleeveless pinafore over skin-tight calf-length leggings in an absolutely crazy multicolored pattern, white high-topped puffy runners (out of which peeped bright pink socks,) and around the base of her long, dark ponytail, which was set high and hung down the side of her head rather than the back, was more of that crazy-colored material. Then he noticed she was holding a dark green wand, and he wondered if she were the girl from America. But no… she was speaking to someone and he could hear that she had an English accent.

Seamus stood at the kitchen doorway and saw that the girl was talking to Mrs. Serpentia. So this _was_ the girl from America! She was arguing with her mam, and Seamus listened closely to learn if she really was a brat. On the table was pot of cold beans, and Mrs. Serpentia was imploring her daughter to eat some. The girl looked frustrated and stamped her foot.

"No, Mummy! If you'd wanted me to eat you'd have left me at home! Dixie had a lovely breakfast of stuffed French toast and fruit salad with honey dressing, and you wouldn't even wait for me to have any! You just brought me here where everyone's already eaten dinner and they don't know what to do with us!"

Seamus thought the girl had a fair point. He knew what French toast was; he'd had it at his dad's restaurant. He would never eat a bowl of cold beans if he could have French toast, and what else did she say? Honey on fruit? That sounded good, too. And the girl was right about something else: His man probably _didn't_ know what to do with them. His dad was at work, and Seamus and his mam had eaten in town. His mam was good at making medicines and such, but at meals she was hopeless. He realized that might be the reason she'd married his dad, even though he couldn't do magic, not even a little bit.

Mrs. Serpentia looked upset and turned to Seamus' mam. "Oh, Eileen, I wasn't thinking! I didn't mean to put you out! It's just…. we had such a row, and…."

"_Who_ had such a row?" demanded the girl, "You haven't been fighting with Daddy again?"

"It's nothing to worry about, dear…."

"You ruin everything!" Now the girl was shouting and brandishing her wand in the air. Golden sparks were flying from the tip. Seamus was fascinated; how was she making those? "Daddy was going to take me to my horse riding lesson and then to Stephanie's birthday party, but now you've got him all upset and he'll just go to work and he won't take me anywhere!"

Mrs. Serpentia stared at her daughter, then put her hands over her face and ran upstairs. Seamus' mam looked like she didn't know what to do. She glanced back and forth between the girl and stairs for a moment, then pointed her finger at the girl and sternly said, "Stay right here!" before dashing upstairs after her friend.

Seamus felt really bad for the girl. Imagine missing french toast _and_ horse riding _and_ a birthday party all in the same day! Now that the adults had left, she looked a little lost and scared. The words came out of his mouth before he even had time to think about them:

"You can ride my pony."

The girl whirled around to look at him. "Who are you?"

Seamus came into the kitchen. "I'm Seamus. I live here."

The girl didn't say anything. Seamus tried again. "I heard what you said - about missing your lesson and a birthday party."

The girl scowled. "It's all _her_ fault!" She pointed her wand violently at the stairs and more golden sparks flew out.

"How are you doing that?" asked Seamus.

The girl looked frustrated. "I wasn't trying to do _that_. I was _trying_ to make sift sparks."

"What?"

"Sift sparks, so I can go home! Only I don't think you can make them with a wand."

Seamus seriously thought for a moment, then brightened. "I can make fire with _my_ wand! Maybe you could use that!"

"What kind of fire?"

"I dunno — fire fire! Is there more than one kind of fire?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Of _course_ there's more than one kind of fire!"

"Well, maybe I make the kind you can use!" Seamus was most anxious to have an excuse to use his wand. He looked around the kitchen. Where had mam put it?

"What are you doing?" asked the girl.

"Looking for my wand!" he said. Then he saw it: way up high, on the very highest shelf, next to the ceiling. How would he reach it? He'd have to climb up. He knew from experience that if he tried to climb the shelves like a ladder, they would break. Maybe if he balanced a chair on the kitchen table…. He ran to the table and began pulling on it with all his might.

"What are you doing _now?_ asked the girl.

"I need to climb up and get my wand." He pointed to the shelf.

The girl gave him a look of deep disgust and held up her arm. Seamus' wand flew off the shelf and into her hand!

Seamus was awed. In a hushed voice he said, "How did you _do_ that?

"It's just the _accio_ spell."

Seamus knew about _accio_; his mam used it all the time. "But you didn't use your wand!"

If the girl had rolled her eyes any harder, they would've landed in the living room. "You don't _need_ a wand for _accio!_"

"Yes, you do!"

"No, you don't! Only skippers need wands."

"What's a skipper?"

The girl made a noise of disgust. "Don't you know anything? Why don't you know anything?"

Seamus was indignant. "I do know things! Gimmie my wand!" The girl handed it to him with a smirk, which a moment later became an expression of great delight, as Seamus snatched his wand and shot golden fire from its tip.

"Do it again!"

Seamus concentrated, and this time a larger flame appeared. The girl jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "Do it again!"

Seamus held his wand with both hands and thought "fire!" as hard as he could. The girl shouted with joy as he produced a massive multicolored blaze. It was very hot and his wand was shaking so violently that he had trouble holding it. He was hanging on with all his might when he realized that someone was shouting his name. It took him a moment to realize that person was — oh no! — his mam!

"SEAMUS FINNEGAN!" she screamed, pounding down the stairs. "PUT THAT OUT THIS INSTANT!"

A jet of smoke shot across the room and doused his fire. His mother reached him in a moment, and she was livid. "_What did I tell you about touching that wand when I'm not around?_" Seamus was cowed and looked the floor, but the girl was incensed. She shouted at Seamus' mam.

"Why did you do that? That was a perfect fire!"

"It was a very dangerous fire, and not allowed in the house! Not allowed anywhere! Give me your wands!" She unceremoniously snatched the wands from the hands of the two children. The girl squealed with indignation.

"Give that back!"

"No wands without supervision! And after what I just saw, maybe no wands at all!"

In later years, when Seamus recalled what happened next, it always seemed like time had unfolded very slowly, although he knew that it all actually must have taken just a few seconds. Serena waved her arm, and her wand flew out of Mrs. Finnegan's hand and into her own. She shouted, "I hate this place! I'm going home!" She screwed her eyes shut, pointed her wand at the floor, and red glitter poured from the tip. The glitter swirled around her feet, covering them up to her ankles. Seamus thought his mam would yell again, but she just stood, transfixed, watching Serena build up more and more glitter. Then — and Seamus remembered this most particularly — she put her hand to her mouth and whispered, "_That's_ what Linda meant by 'his side of the family.'"

She held out her arm to Seamus, and he knew she meant him to come stand by her side. He did, and she hugged him close as they watched Serena create a sparkly mountain around her legs. Finally, her wand seemed to run out of glitter, and she opened her eyes, her lip trembling as if she would cry.

Seamus' mam surprised him for a second time by taking a deep breath and saying, "Seamus, why don't you take Serena out to see duck pond?"

Seamus wasn't sure he had heard right. Wasn't his mam mad at the girl for disobeying her? And for spilling glitter all over the kitchen floor? Wasn't she mad at him for breaking the rule about wands? And why did she think the girl would want to see the ducks? He looked at his mam questioningly, but she just gave him a little shove and said, "Go on. Outside, both of you, before it gets dark."

Seamus took a few steps toward the girl and said, "You want to see our ducks? Serena?"

The girl looked at him, but didn't move.

"That's your name, isn't it? Serena? Mam says we should go outside."

Without a word or further glance, Serena marched the out of the kitchen to the cloakroom. Without missing a stride, she waved her hand to fling open the back door and continued marching out to the yard, Seamus hurrying behind.

Seamus felt sure that Serena wouldn't be interested in the ducks, but he was wrong. As soon as she spied the fuzzy yellow ducklings paddling after their mothers, she marched to the duck pond and sat down to watch them. Seamus had no idea what to say to her, and he was relieved when, a few minutes later, his mam called to him from the patio. He ran to her, and he saw she was holding a tray, a tray covered with…. broken lemon biscuits?

His mam said, "Seamus, I want you and Serena to feed these to the ducks."

"Biscuits?"

"Yes, and Seamus…. this is very important. Be sure to ask Serena if she'd like some."

Seamus knew his dad would never approve of giving broken biscuits to a guest. He said, "She won't want these; haven't we any nice ones?"

Seamus' mam shook her head. "She will like these fine, but listen to me! It's very important! Don't just show her the tray. Hand her the biscuits like this." Seamus mam picked up a piece and put it into Seamus' hand. "Make sure she takes them from you, one at a time."

Seamus was puzzled. "Why?"

"Never mind why, just do it! Do it right and… tomorrow I'll let you play with your wand."

A big smile spread over Seamus' face. "Right! I'll do it mam, you'll see!" He took the tray and carefully trotted back to the duck pond.

-

That was eleven years ago, almost to the day. Now Seamus watched a new set of ducks swim in the pond from a chaise lounge on the patio. His mam and Serena were inside, making a potion to remove the bruises from his face. His dad, having washed the dishes in the muggle way, came out and sat down beside him.

"It's good to have you home, lad," said Mr. Finnegan.

"Good to be back," replied Seamus.

His dad leaned back in the chaise and folded his arms behind his head. "So what's the craic?"

"Not much. You know."

Mr. Finnegan sighed. "Son, I may be a muggle, but I'm not an eejit. I know something's up. The last few months your mam's been hiding the emProphet/em from me. Then last night a whole gang of wizarding folk were havin' a helluva hooley, and that obliviator bloke your mam knows was barreling through the town like his arse was on fire blasting all the muggles, and then this morning come a parade of owls, and I know a funeral notice when I see one. And then at dinner there's another flock of bleedin' owls, and I also know the Hogwarts seal when I see it. So I ask you again: What don't you want me to know?"

Seamus hesitated, not because he didn't want to tell the truth to his dad, but because he wasn't sure where to begin. Finally he said, "You remember You-Know-Who?"

"Yeah, sure. Wasn't he the one your mam and you were fighting about a few years back? The header who was supposed to be dead, but it turned out he was just hidin' out?"

"That's the one. Well, he was killed the other night."

"Well, that's good news, in'it? Who did it, one of those special-forces lads, the aurors?"

"Naw, it wasn't one of them; there was… there was a big battle."

"A battle you say? Like an army?"

"Yeah. Like two armies."

"Two magical armies? Where did this happen? Not here in Ireland?"

"No, Dad, not here in Ireland. In Scotland." Seamus hesitated, and his Dad saw it.

"Go on…."

"It happened at Hogwarts."

"At… at Hogwarts? Is there a town called Hogwarts?" When Seamus didn't say anything, his dad sat up. "You mean, at your school? Lord V-wan was at your school? And the army came to take him out?"

"Sort of…."

"Whatd'ya mean, 'sort of'?" A look of great alarm came to Mr. Finnegan, and he swung his legs off the chaise. "Is that what happened to your face? Were you caught up in all that?"

Seamus suddenly had much more sympathy for Dean, who was undoubtedly having the same conversation with his mother.

"Aw, Dad, don't get upset. It all turned out fine in the end."

"You don't look fine to me! A hippogriff my arse! I'll bet there's no such creature!"

"There is!"

There was a loud bang from the house, which Seamus recognized as the sound of a lid slamming down on a large cauldron. Mr. Finnegan jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen.

"And what about that darling Serena? Was she in that mess, too?"

Seamus knew that his dad had a very different impression of Serena than the rest of the world, and he was positive he didn't want to change that. He hated to start lying again now that he'd begun to tell his dad the truth, and then he realized that he didn't have to. Serena had not actually been part of the battle! He just wouldn't give his dad all the details.

"Naw, she wasn't there. Most of the students left before it began."

"Well, why didn't _you_ leave with them?"

He had to tell him. He had to tell him because he had to tell mam, because it was only a matter of time before all of their names were in the _Prophet_, and everyone would know. He swung his legs over his chaise, too, and looked his dad straight in the eye.

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

Seamus took a deep breath. "Two years ago, I joined a student group called Dumbledore's Army."

Mr. Finnegan's voice was hushed. "You joined… an army? Like the Reserves?"

"Yeah, kind of like that. We learned to fight, in case You-Know-Who ever tried anything. And he did. Last autumn he took over the British ministry. That's why mam was hiding the _Prophet_ from you."

His dad looked stunned. Seamus went on. "The British ministry controls Hogwarts, so everything there changed. It was all run according to crazy laws written by You-Know-Who. Dumbledore's Army tried to work against him, undercover-like, but we were found out. I've been on the hop since December."

"Mother of God!" Mr. Finnegan ran his hands through his hair and was silent for a moment. "But if you were on the hop, how did you come to be there for the fight?"

Seamus didn't think he could explain the Room of Requirement to his dad, so he said, "We heard about it, so we went back to help."

"We?" his dad said sharply, "You weren't alone?"

Seamus shook his head and smiled a little. "No, we had a whole crew."

"Well, thank heavens for that!" Mr. Finnegan stared off into the distance for a moment, then turned back to Seamus. "Does your mam know about this?"

"About You-Know-Who?"

"About your bleedin' army corps, you great eejit!"

"Oh. Naw. I couldn't tell her. But she'll have to know now. It'll be in the _Prophet_ directly."

Mr. Finnegan thought a little more. "Son, I know you couldn't tell your mam, but you could've told _me_. I would've understood!"

At that, Seamus' eyes filled with tears, and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he did a little of both.

"Aw, now, I especially couldn'tve told _you_."

"Why not, for heavens' sake?"

"Because You-Know-Who hated muggles worst of all! I couldn't do anything that would point him in your direction!"

Mr. Finnegan got up and paced around the patio for a bit. Finally he stopped and asked, "Does this mean you've not sat your exams?"

"No, no one has."

"Will there _be_ exams?"

"Yeah, sure, they'll have them. We have a choice; take them now, or spend another year at Hogwarts."

"Is that what those owls were about?"

Seamus hadn't actually read any of the messages delivered by the flock of school owls who had disturbed dinner, but he was pretty sure that none of them were about his NEWTs. Someone else answered his dad's question, however. From the back doorway came Serena's voice: "Those owls were for me. Mostly."

She walk out on to the patio carrying a bowl of clear potion and a small towel. She handed these to Seamus, saying, "Your mother instructs you to wet this towel with the potion and apply it to your face a sector at a time. The potion must have contact with your skin for at least five minutes. Personally, I think you should just submerge your head in the bowl for five minutes and have done with it."

"He can't hold his breath for five minutes!" declared Mr. Finnegan.

"More's the pity."

Seamus sniffed the bowl and said, "It doesn't smell bad. Why would I rush it?"

Serena's expression was arch. "You haven't felt it yet."

Seamus dipped a finger into the potion. It was deathly cold.

"Sure I won't get frostbite?" Seamus said this lightly, but the potion actually scared him a little.

"I'm sure you're going to whine the entire time."

Resigned, Seamus wet a portion of the towel in the potion, lay back on the chaise, and pressed the towel to his cheek. It hurt his face _and_ his fingers. He looked at Serena hopefully. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to help me with this?"

Serena snorted and walked away. "Why should _I_ suffer?

Mr. Finnegan chuckled. As usual, it didn't occur to him that Serena was serious. He called to her, and she paused.

"How will you be spending the next year? Will you be taking the extra year at Hogwarts before your NEWTs?"

Serena considered for a moment, then said, "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"My favorite teacher died."

With that, she turned and went back in the house, leaving Mr. Finnegan speechless. He paced around a little more, then sat back down next to Seamus and asked him, "Didja know about that?"

Seamus sighed. "Yeah, Dad, I did."

"That poor girl…."

Seamus knew Joe Finnegan's pity was wasted on Serena. At that moment, the person for whom he felt sorry was his dad.

-

After a very uncomfortable session with his mam's potion, Seamus went inside to look for Serena. He found her, not in the guest room, but in the sewing room, where his mam used magical and muggle means to create clothes and horse blankets. Serena was waving two wands in a very elegant and beautiful manner, but she was apparently unhappy with the intricately-patterned knitted material she was making, because she kept vanishing it and starting over. When she noticed Seamus, she let the material dissolve into fine smoke.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," said Seamus.

Serena leaned back against his mother's tall cutting table. "You didn't. I haven't figured out what it's supposed to look like."

"What's supposed to look like something?"

"Just a scarf."

"Oh." A scarf? Serena looked thoughtful, which was most unusual. Maybe that was good. Maybe they could talk about this whole _preasul_ misunderstanding. "Serena," he started, "I was just wondering if we could talk about-"

"I'm _not_ letting them in!" Serena declared.

Seamus was confused. "Come again?"

"I spent _years_ renovating the Slytherin part of the dungeons! Malfoy and backwards family stood in my way, until the Dark Lord took them down and put me in charge! Then I really fixed it up, and no one dared argue! Of course, all the Southfielders agreed with me!"

She paused and twirled her wand. "It's ironic, you know. The Dark Lord would've hated it, absolutely hated it, but too bad for him if he couldn't change with the times! And if there's a chance, even the slightest chance, that I'll return to Hogwarts, I will emnot/em let Slughorn change it back! I will emnot/em live in that disgusting medieval place again! emWHAT?/em"

Seamus realized that he must look as dismayed as he felt. What the hell had she done? It sounded bad, very bad, but then… You-Know-Who himself would've hated it, so…. maybe it wasn't so bad? Then again, the Southfielders liked it. The Southfielders included Marcus Flint and Serena's ex-boyfriend, Adrian Pucey, and they rarely supported anything of which McGonagall would approve. And speaking of McGonagall….

"Serena," said Seamus warily, "Now, I know you're not going to like this, but it's the truth: If you _don't_ let Slughorn into the common room, there's absolutely _no_ chance McGonagall will let you return to Hogwarts."

Silence. Not so bad. Better silence than…. well, just about any other way Serena might respond. She had that thoughtful expression again. She really did look quite…. witchy, in that soft pink sweater, with her hair naturally spilling all about, and such a gentle expression on her pretty—

Stars! Seamus literally felt like he had slapped himself in the brain. Where in Merlin's name had _that_ come from? He almost missed her question.

"Are _you_ going back?"

Seamus stared into Serena's eyes from across the room and had the crazy impulse to say, "Only if you are." He quickly tore his eyes away and blinked several times. This was madness! He must be exhausted. That was the trouble; he was so tired he couldn't think straight. It would have to wait, all of it: questions of Hogwarts, questions about what he would or would not do or be. It would all have to wait…

"….'til tomorrow," Serena was saying, very close to his ear. Seamus jumped back; _how had she…?_ But Serena was already past him, out of the room. He heard her climb the stairs; he heard the door shut behind her.


	6. Minerva's Morning

**Friday, 7 May, 1998. Hogwarts: 5:45am**

Newly-appointed Hogwarts headmistress Minerva McGonagall was experiencing one of the most challenging weeks of her life. She was simultaneously overseeing two massive projects: the rebuilding of the Hogwarts castle, and the restructuring of the Hogwarts curriculum. If you had told her a month ago that rebuilding a castle would be the _easier_ of two tasks, she would have thought you were confunded. Now, she thought grimly, she would rather repair _two_ castles than restructure a school program.

The reason that rebuilding the castle wasn't as big a headache as Minerva feared was that the Hogwarts staff had plenty of help. The Ministry of Magic sent an army builders for the rough work. The finish work, coordinated by Professor Flitwick, was handled by scores of volunteers. Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, Padma and Parvati Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Dean Thomas had all stayed to help, joined by an ever-growing number of alumnae like Charlie Weasley, Marcus Flint and Penelope Clearwater. Mrs. and Mrs. Patil were there, along with Sandra Thomas, Amos Diggory, and many more members of the Wizarding community.

It was barely dawn, and yet the grounds were already filled with workers. Watching the activity from her tall, narrow office windows, Minerva wished the tasks she faced that morning were as easy as choosing the expression for a gargoyle. (Fierce, of course.) Unfortunately, she had quite a few difficult academic and logistical decisions to make. Voldemort's year in power had disrupted nearly everyone's education. In the coming year, Hogwarts had to accommodate students who were both older and younger than usual.

A lion patronus streaked through Minerva's open window and settled on her massive, carved mahogany desk. In Neville's voice, the lion said, "Received your message. Would you like to see me now, Professor?"

As the lion melted away, Minerva sent her own cat patronus out over the grounds. Then she called out, "Bitsy!" A tiny house elf, wearing a tea towel of Gryffindor-themed tartan, appeared with a "crack." She was carrying a tray with hot tea, a tall pile of currant scones, butter, and sturdy white porcelain cups and plates.

"Ready for your tray, Mistress?" squeaked Bitsy in a Scottish accent.

"Yes, Bitsy. Put it on the desk." Bitsy disappeared, reappeared on Minerva's desk, set down the tray, and vanished with another "crack." A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Minerva called, "Come in!" and Neville Longbottom entered.

Neville was one of the students staying at Hogwarts an extra year to study for his NEWTs. Due to the extraordinary leadership abilities he'd demonstrated during the previous year, Minerva had named him Head Boy, and was including him, as a student representative, in her meetings with the Board of Governors and the ministries of all of the countries who had citizens attending Hogwarts.

Minerva gestured toward her desk and said, "Mr. Longbottom, Professor Sprout told me you'd be skipping breakfast to help Mr. Diggory replant the bubotuber. I thought you might appreciate a little something while we talk. Please, help yourself."

A broad grin appeared on Neville's face. "Thank you, Professor!" They sat on opposite sites of Minerva's desk, and Neville hastily buttered several scones while Minerva poured two cups of tea.

"Your patronus loquentis is quite impressive," said Minerva. Neville looked pleased and embarrassed at the same time. His mouth full, he mumbled, "Professor Flitwick taught me how to do it last year. It was dead useful."

"I imagine it was," said Minerva sardonically. She waited until Neville had washed his scones down with some tea, and then asked, "Are you prepared for this afternoon's meeting with the Board of Governors?"

Neville suddenly looked a little nervous. "I'm ready, Professor, but I feel funny making suggestions on behalf of all the students. I wish Hermione would've stayed this week. I'd really like to talk with her about my ideas, but she hasn't returned my owls."

Minerva had given Hermione Granger the same responsibilities as Neville. Hermione hadn't planned on returning to Hogwarts before taking her NEWTs, but when McGonagall offered her the position of Head Girl, she'd accepted. Minerva thought privately that Hermione's decision had more to do with Ron Weasley than any desire to spend another year as a student. Ron's mother was strongly encouraging him to return to school.

Minerva said, "Miss Granger is reuniting with her parents."

"But surely they would understand if she spent a little time owling me back!" replied Neville.

Minerva considered for a moment, then decided that Neville would know the whole story soon, anyway. She said, "Miss Granger's reunion with her family is a little unusual. Before she joined Mr. Potter on his adventures, she obliviated her parents and sent them to Australia for their protection. They have no idea what's happened in the past year."

Neville was open-mouthed with surprise. "That's…. that's horrible!"

Minerva's expression was grim. "A lot of horrible things happened last year."

They sat in silence for a moment, then Minerva said, "Mr. Longbottom, I didn't just call you in to ask about the board meeting. I want you to spend some time considering a proposal from the Ministry that would affect every student in the school. Feel free to discuss this with any of your professors, and you may consult any eighth-year whom you feel will be helpful and discrete — and I emphasize _discrete_." Minerva gave Neville a severe look to accentuate her point. She felt satisfied when Neville appeared somber and concerned.

"What is it, Professor?" he asked.

Minerva rose and paced the floor as she talked. "Surely you've realized that in the coming year, Hogwarts will have to accommodate many more students than usual." She paused and looked at Neville, who nodded. She continued pacing. "There are the eighth-years, of course, and then there are the muggle-borns who should have started as first-years last September, but who were banned by You-Know-Who. There are also Muggle-borns in other grades who are officially a year behind, although some of them have been studying in foreign schools." She sniffed in annoyance; Minerva believed that all other magic schools were inferior to Hogwarts.

"Then there's the Slytherin problem." She stopped and turned to Neville.

"The… Slytherin problem?" Neville looked bewildered.

"A large portion of the upper-grade Slytherin students aren't returning, leaving a void in our older student body. At the same time, there were a number of young children, too young for Hogwarts traditionally, whose parents were now jailed as Death Eaters, and who are being fostered. Our new minister of magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, is strongly encouraging me to incorporate the oldest of these children into the Hogwarts community."

Minerva observed with satisfaction that Neville seemed to grasp the problem immediately. "Where will all these students live? And who will teach them?" he asked.

"_Those_ are the problems before us. There are many options, each worse than the last. I would very much like the opinion of students, but students who are serious about their schooling."

Neville grinned. "Meaning, I shouldn't ask Dean Thomas."

Minerva felt a laugh bubble up in her, but she confined it to a tiny twitch of her lips. "No, that would not be prudent."

Neville became serious again. "I never thought about this before, but Gryffindor tower is configured for exactly fourteen dormitories. Hufflepuff and Slytherin have room to expand, but Gryffindor and Ravenclaw don't. At least, I assume Ravenclaw tower is the same as ours."

"You are correct," replied Minerva.

Neville frowned. "It sounds as if the Ministry is suggesting that all of the young kids will be Slytherins. But that can't be right. How would they know? Would the hat even sort children who are that young?"

"I would," said a voice from above, making them both jump. The sorting hat had spoken! Minerva crossed the room to the stand under the high shelf where the hat resided. "Have you any advice, hat?" she asked, looking up at it.

The hat opened at its brim, and said,

"Of Ravenclaws and Slytherins  
We'll have too few when we begin  
Of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs  
I fear we'll have more than enough."

Minerva and Neville looked at each other. "Can you elaborate, hat?" asked Minerva.

"Neeeeyohhhhh," yawned the hat. It shut its brim and was silent once more.

"Well!" said Minerva after a moment, "I can think of worse things than a school full of Gryffindors!"

Neville was still thoughtful. "I wonder why we'll be missing Ravenclaws?" Minerva had no answer to that. She heard a light chiming sound, which she realized was coming from Neville's wristwatch. "Professor," he said, "Mr. Diggory will need me soon. Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing." Minerva returned to her desk and sat across from Neville again, staring him down with a no-nonsense expression. "I believe that Mr. Finnegan is avoiding me. Do you have any idea why?" She observed Neville closely, suspecting that he knew the answer, but she was disappointed when Neville appeared to be genuinely surprised.

"I don't think that's the case, Professor," he said, "I talked to him the other day, when he came to pick up his trunk. He's gone back home to spend time with parents. He's been very worried about his dad — he's a muggle, you know."

"Yes, I'm aware," said Minerva.

"Professor, does this have anything to do with Serena Serpentia? You wanted to speak to both of us the other day, and I was under the impression that it was about her."

Minerva pursed her lips. "Yes, but I suppose it doesn't matter now. Neither she nor Mr. Finnegan seem to be returning." She tried very hard not to think about the Slytherin common room; with no Slytherins on the grounds, she couldn't make it her first concern, but the fact that it was still inaccessible angered her to no end.

Neville looked resigned, and maybe even… a little sad? Minerva decided she needed to get to the bottom of all the protests on behalf of Miss Serpentia. They really were baffling.

"Neville," she began, hoping that informality would get her the results she wanted, "I must confess I don't understand why you are such an ardent defender of Miss Serpentia. If I am not mistaken, she was never your friend. And you must be aware that, during your time at Hogwarts, she's had a most hostile relationship with Miss Granger, whom I know _is_ your friend. And you are not the only person who is concerned about Miss Serpentia's future. I have received owls from Miss Patil and Mr. Thomas asking me to allow her to graduate with your year. I have even had a conversation with Mr. Potter in which he urged me to investigate claims that Miss Serpentia used her authority as Head Girl to hide your rule-breaking from the Professors Carrow. He said he received this information from you. Now, I can understand your gratitude, but not this blind loyalty. Not to a student who took the first opportunity to use this school as her own personal fiefdom! Not to a person who has spent the past seven years insulting and demeaning you and your friends!"

Neville took a moment to gather his thoughts. Minerva wondered what he really knew about Serpentia, and if he were worried about revealing it. She was not normally in favor of using legilimency to eavesdrop on students' thoughts, but today she fervently wished she had Dumbledore's skill. Finally Neville spoke.

"It's like this, Professor. We all went through a horrible experience together, all of us who were against the Carrows. I would say all of us who were against Snape, but I think Serena was Snape's biggest fan, and besides, it turns out he was working for the Order after all. Anyway, when you live through something like that with other people, you become like a family. Families are different than friends. Serena is like…. a horrid second cousin. You know she'll cause a scene at Christmas dinner, but you invite her anyway, because it just wouldn't be the same without her. And professor…."

He paused and swallowed. Minerva could tell that he was looking for the right words. She waited impatiently; he had answered only part of her question.

"…. I never had a — how did you put it? — a hostile relationship with Serena. We were both tops in Herbology and we worked together on two extra-credit projects. I also know she gets on with other people who aren't Slytherins, including muggle-borns. She wrote that arithmancy paper with Justin Finch-Fletchley fifth year — you know, they won that award for it. And she was partners with Dean all sixth year in advanced divination. As far as I know, the only person with whom she has a really bad relationship is Hermione…." He paused and said the next part carefully, "…. and I think you know why."

Minerva felt like the floor had dropped away from under her chair. She was ardently glad she was already seated. Her mind was racing: What did Longbottom know? What did any of them know? She mustn't assume they knew everything. But how to find out without accidentally revealing all that Dumbledore had worked so hard to conceal? This was a disaster.

She realized that her face must have spoken volumes, because Neville rose and said, "You don't have to answer that, Professor." She watched him cross the room in silence. As he was leaving, he turned and said, "But perhaps it's time to make it right."

-

A half-hour later, Minerva was conversing at the Great Hall staff table with her deputy headmistress and great friend Pomona Sprout. They were discussing the sorting hat's rhyme and how it might be prescient, considering how much trouble Minerva was having replacing herself as head of Gryffindor. Also at the staff table, several seats away to the right of Pomona, was Horace Slughorn, still officially head of Slytherin, although he had been making retirement noises. Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, who had once again filled in for Hagrid during the past year as professor of Care of Magical Creatures, was a few seats away to Minerva's left. Minerva wished Hagrid would show up. For some reason, she couldn't get a word with him. He was another one she suspected of avoiding her.

The usual four long banks of tables were set up for breakfast, but they didn't belong to any particular Houses, nor were they exclusively for students. Workmen and community volunteers took their places side-by-side with the handful of students who had remained to help rebuild the castle. People came for meals at all hours. Looking over the crowded hall, Minerva saw the Patil twins, recent graduate Katie Bell, Charlie Weasley and… was that Percy with him? They were having an amiable conversation; she supposed that Percy had reconciled with his family after the war.

"So do you think the hat is saying that there are more muggle-born Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs than Ravenclaws?" Pomona was saying quietly, "I never thought about it before. Of course, there are no muggle-born Slytherins."

"I don't think the hat was necessarily trying to make that point, Pomona," replied Minerva. "It might simply have meant that the Ravenclaws will all advance with their grades, and we won't have any extra."

"It's a shame we're missing so many of the older Slytherins," said Pomona.

Minerva looked at her in surprise. "I was thinking quite the opposite, that the next year might be easier with fewer of them."

Pomona let out an exasperated snort. "Really, Minerva, I never understood why you have so much trouble with the Slytherins in your classes. Maybe it's because you're such a Gryffindor." Minerva's mouth dropped open in outrage. "Oh, now, you know it's true! As for me, many of my best students are Slytherins. They seem to like Herbology."

Minerva turned back to her boiled egg and muttered, "Maybe they're trying to grow their own poisons."

"Minerva!" hissed Pomona under her breath, her eyes wide. Then she decided that Minerva was joking, and laughed. "You're so awful!" she exclaimed. Minerva kept silent; she was feeling particularly uncharitable towards the entire house of Slytherin today, which she knew was unfair. She tried to think of a way to redirect the conversation, but Pomona was too quick for her. She asked, "Minerva, you didn't really expel Serena Serpentia, did you?"

Minerva's heart sank. This was the last conversation she wanted to have. "I did," she said, not taking her eyes from her plate, "But her family has the chance to appeal my decision. I haven't heard from them yet."

Pomona sighed. "I really wish you would explain to me what she's supposed to have done. She's never caused a moment's trouble in my class. Did you know she received an Outstanding on her Herbology OWL? Her score was almost as good as Neville Longbottom's!"

Minerva turned back to Pomona. "Well, she may not have caused trouble in your classroom, but she's certainly caused a great deal of trouble for me by locking up the Slytherin common room, and with it, access to the dormitories!"

Pomona seemed unperturbed. "Now, I'm sure that's just some sort of misunderstanding. Have you owled her parents? They're lovely people; I met them when they came to watch a bit of the TriWizard Tournament."

Minerva had a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, but she was interrupted by a sudden hush that fell over the hall.

"Speak of the devil…." muttered Minerva.

Serena Serpentia, dressed in a very dramatic black full-skirted traditional witch's dress and cape, marched purposefully toward the staff table, the heels of her boots making an unnaturally loud clicking against the stone. People whispered and pointed as she passed, but the hall grew quieter as she neared the staff table. Minerva steeled herself for a confrontation, but Serpentia didn't so much as glance at her. She stopped directly in front of Horace, and in a ringing voice, announced:

"Professor Horace Slughorn! We will speak immediately!"

Horace looked positively nonplussed. He waved his hands and mumbled many incomplete phrases that Minerva couldn't hear. Serpentia continued to stare him down. He finally looked a Minerva, who immediately waved her hand at him, indicating "Go! Go!" She prayed this meant that Serpentia was willing to unlock the Slytherin doors. Perhaps she would also agree to leave the school forever?

With a fair amount of fussing, Horace rose and descended from the head table podium. Serpentia turned on her heel and marched back out of the hall, Slughorn hurrying behind. The instant they departed, the level of noise in the hall increased greatly. Minerva noticed Parvati Patil trying to catch her attention; she discouraged her with a stern look.

"I'd like to be a fly on _that_ wall!" This came from Wilhelmina, who leaned back in her chair with a satisfied expression. When Minerva and Pomona turned to her, she smiled and said, "Yes, yes, that will be a most interesting conversation. But then, Miss Serpentia is a most interesting student!"

"You, too, Wilhelmina?" said Minerva, looking between her and Pomona, "Am I the only one who finds her actions outrageous?"

"Oh, yes, outrageous indeed!" declared Wilhelmina, looking not at all upset. "But they're like that, you know."

"Who are like what?" asked Pomona, while Minerva, for the second time that morning, felt like everything was slipping away from her. What did Wilhelmina know? However much it was, it had to stop right there.

She thought quickly, and said, "Americans. Dr. Serpentia is American. They're very pushy and rude."

"No, he isn't!" protested Pomona, "Rude, I mean. In fact, he's very quiet and polite!" Wilhelmina just gave Minerva a funny look, as though wondering if she were entirely competent.

Minerva was deeply grateful when, a moment later, Aurora Sinistra walked up with an important message from the Ministry. Minerva rushed from the hall with Aurora, hoping fervently that by the next time she spoke with either Pomona or Wilhelmina, her Serpentia problem would be solved.


	7. Asmo's Afternoon

**Hogsmeade, Scotland: 2pm**

Asmodeus Serpentia was enjoying a sunny afternoon in Hogsmeade. The streets and shops were surprisingly busy, all due to the massive reconstruction efforts at Hogwarts. Asmo walked alone, because no one he knew had any interest in wasting their time in some pissant wizards' village. Asmo, however, had been stoked to meet his cousin Serena for breakfast at Three Broomsticks before she stormed the Hogwarts castle. He'd wanted to go with, but she was like, you are _so_ not cramping my style. So he was just hanging out, waiting for his official invite to see whatever freaky jack she'd done to the dungeons.

He was wearing a stylish wizard's robe, to better blend in with the crowd. Asmo was the kind of guy who tended to stand out. He was tall, solid, and unabashedly ugly. His face was craggy and pockmarked, his features large and coarse. He got his hundred-dollar haircuts on Rodeo Drive, but he wouldn't let anyone change the strange, silvery, faintly lavender color of his hair, which was already beginning to recede. Against his tanned olive skin, it seemed to glow. Thanks to his uncle Sidney, his teeth were perfect, but when Dr. Serpentia had offered his services as a plastic surgeon, Asmo had turned him down. His skin and his features made him look tough, and there were advantages to looking tough.

Asmodeus was the first Serpentia to go to Hogwarts. It would never have occurred to his parents to send him there, but the summer after his freshman year at the Academy of Magic, California, Los Angeles (which was really in Santa Monica) his quaddo team played an exhibition game before the British National Youth Quidditch Championship. After the final match, Asmo's team crashed this raging party in Wiltshire thrown by this totally wicked dude named Octavius Flint and his seriously hot sister Annalise. That party marked the beginning of Asmo's three years abroad.

It wasn't the sort of event you could just sneak into. In fact, most of the quidditch competitors didn't even know it was happening. Asmo and his teammates learned about it because they were actively eavesdropping in the locker rooms, corridors and stands, hoping to find some action in England. Once they caught wind of the party, however, they were frustrated by a serious lack of identifying details. By the time the championship was concluded they'd reduced themselves to shameless begging, but to no avail. Even the charms girls they'd brought along couldn't get invites, and that wasn't for a lack of trying by infatuated quidditch players. Disappointed, the quaddo team packed up their gear, and were crossing the rapidly-emptying quidditch pitch when a funny-looking younger kid got their attention.

"Oi! Americans!" he shouted, running up to them, "Do you think I could give it a try?"

"Give what a try?" asked Jamal, the team captain.

"Quadpot! I think could do it, but no one has the gear around here."

The team members snickered. Jamal pointed upwards and said, "You realize quaddo's played in the air?"

"I'm a right fair flyer," said the kid, "I play quidditch with my brother. He's captain of the Slytherin team."

"I don't care if he captain of the Bats, that don't make _you_ Finbar Quigley."

"Aw, gimme a chance, mate, I know I can do it!"

"What'chor name, kid?"

"Marcus Flint."

"Well, Marcus Flint," said Jamal, "We ain' got time for —"

"Hold up!" said Asmo. Jamal looked at him in surprise. Asmo said to the kid, "Your name is Flint?"

"Yeah."

"You related to the Flints having that blowout tonight?"

A sly expression formed on the kid's face. "Maaaaybe…."

The charms girls giggled. One of them said, "He's so cyuuute!" Another quaddo player said, "What, your mama not sure who your daddy is?"

The kid was quick. "Hey, I know my dad. He would've been your dad, too, only the guy behind him in line had the correct change."

The team burst into laughter. "Oh, _BURN!_" someone shouted.

"You all right, lil' dude," chuckled Jamal. "I tell you what. You get us into that party, and we'll let you practice with us tomorrow."

"You'll all be hung over tomorrow."

More laughter. Stacey, one of the charms girls, stepped forward. "_We'll_ make you a promise," she said, indicating the charms team, "If they crap out on you, you can practice with _us_."

Asmo thought maybe the kid was too young to be bribed by that, but he was wrong. Marcus broke out in a huge grin and pulled a wand out of his pocket. He said to Stacey, "Give me your hand."

A chorus of "_whoa_"s and "_ooo_"s filled the air. "Don't do it!" warned one of the charms girls, "They don't let little kids use wands over here. It's probably not even his."

"It _is_ mine!" said Marcus indignantly, "And I'm not a little kid; I'm eleven." He turned back to Stacey and repeated, "Give me your hand; you get the first invite."

Stacey held out her hand, palm up. Marcus took it, pointed his wand at her palm and said, "Hold still. _Invitantis ad embed_." A jagged, sparking beam of white light came out of his wand, and he used it to draw something on Stacey's palm.

"Ow!" said Stacey, jerking her hand away and shaking it.

"Sorry!" said Marcus, "I just learned how to do that."

Stacey stared at her palm. Asmo, who was standing near her, leaned over and saw a bright white, five-pointed star, which turned into a red, star-shaped mark, and then disappeared entirely. "What does it do?" asked Stacey.

"You just show your hand to security at the gates, and they let you through."

"Wicked!" said another charms girl, "Do me next!"

While Marcus drew stars on everyone's palms, Jamal asked, "So where's this party at, lil' dude?"

"It's in Wiltshire. But you don't need to find it. There's a bunch of portkeys at the Knight Bus terminal outside the stadium. They look like those paper cups muggles use to drink from. If you have invites, a bunch of you can all touch a cup and it'll take you there."

"Righteous!" said the player who'd teased Flint about his mama, looking at the star on his palm. "And you can find us right here, tomorrow at three. We'll see if you can really stay up on a broom."

Several hours later, the AMCLA quaddo and charms teams were enjoying the British wizarding world's teen event of the summer. The Flints had magically concealed a big field. Inside the perimeter there were bonfires, cauldrons of ale and a slamming band. The place was jammed with people from the youth quidditch leagues, dancing, drinking and hooking up. There were some _fine_ ladies there; apparently they were kind of the point of Flint parties.

As Asmo passed one of the bonfires, this rad group of kids called the Southfielders asked him to sit down and tell them about quadpot. The first thing he told them was that no one called it quadpot anymore. Some of the Southfielders went to this ancient school called Hogwarts. Asmo knew about Hogwarts, because the guy who ran his uncle's wife's Gifted Potioneers' Summer Camp, this intense British dude named Snape, was a teacher there. Snape liked to tell the campers about Hogwarts, and he made sound like a prison. Asmo asked the Hogwarts kids how bad it sucked, and after they figured out what he meant, they said it wasn't bad there at all; in fact, Hogwarts was a great place to go to school. Hogwarts had a stellar quidditch program; every year a few of the students turned pro. The teachers could all do stuff that blew your mind, and they would teach you really advanced magic if you could handle it. And the Southfielders loved Dr. Snape. They called him "professor" and said his classes were the best. He was their "head of house," which meant he was supposed to supervise them when they weren't in class, but he never even set foot in the dorms, so they basically did whatever they wanted. They invited Asmo to visit, but he said no thanks, it really wasn't his speed. The party host, Octavius Flint, overheard the conversation as he was walking by. He stopped and told Asmo he needed some new blood on the Slytherin quidditch team, and he'd seen the AMCLA exhibition game and he'd just been thinking that it would be a big advantage for his team know some quaddo dodging moves, and Asmo was a good junior player who could learn quidditch easy, and then suddenly the incredibly fine Annalise was sitting in Asmo's lap, saying it would be a shame if Slytherin broke its winning streak in her seventh year; she would really, really like to end the year cheering for her house — could Asmo understand that? And Asmo found himself saying yes, yes he could understand that, of course he'd ask his parents if he might give Hogwarts a try.

It turned out the Southfielders were right about Hogwarts. Asmodeus liked it there. Belial and his shallow friends all thought he was crazy. Who would want to live in a medieval castle in the middle of nowhere? No parties, no clubs, no concerts, no remotely suitable girls. Asmo didn't bother to tell them that they were wrong about the girls. Not that there were was anyone he found too interesting at the actual school, not after Annalise left, but Octavius and his kid brother Marcus threw some wicked parties with the Southfielders during school vacations, and those Southfielder babes…. they thought Asmo was all that because he was from L.A., and he didn't want any other Americans showing up and jacking his thunder. The Cali crew were wrong about Hogwarts parties, too; Slytherin house was rocking every weekend. The Slytherins were way down in the dungeons where no one could hear them, and Snape didn't care what they did as long as they kept it underground.

But it wasn't just the parties that Asmo liked about Hogwarts; the classes were really cool, too. They didn't even _have_ arithmancy at AMCLA, or Care of Magical Creatures. Asmo liked Snape's Potions class, but his favorite was Transfiguration with old lady McGonagall. That she always looked like she wanted to blast him out of the room only added to the fun. There was a dueling club, and in his seventh year Asmo was captain of his team. The only weak class was Charms; Hogwarts was way behind the Academy in that. Maybe it was because most of the British kids hadn't even picked up a wand until they turned eleven. It was a shame, because Asmo thought the quidditch games could've used some charms girls, and there was no way the Hogwarts girls could've done even the easiest routines. Plus maybe they wouldn't've looked so hot in the gear — there were a lot of couch potatoes at Hogwarts. Even without charms girls, however, Asmo did learn to like quidditch. It was fun, whacking the quaffle as hard as he could through the goal hoops, or into an unsuspecting Gryffindor. He liked the freaky castle, too, with the stairs that moved around and the maze of hidden rooms and the blatant ghosts.

It was a bummer for Serena that Hogwarts changed at lot after Asmo left, especially because she'd never wanted to go there. She'd already spent half her schooling at Wizards' Way Primary School in Wiltshire, (the other half spent at Charming Children Day School in Beverly Hills,) and she was looking forward to attending AMCLA with her American friends. But her mother insisted on Hogwarts because for some reason Dr. Snape had to stop running the potions camp so he could spend all his time in England, and Serena's mother believed that Snape was the best potions teacher around and Serena had to study with him. Apparently Uncle Sidney agreed, or maybe he'd noticed that Asmo was recruited for the honors program at the University of Magic, while Belial was wait-listed for general admission. Which really wasn't a fair assessment of the Academy of Magic, because Belial never put much effort into school. Ironic that Belial now spent hundreds of hours immersed in spread sheets, reports, and books, magazines and websites about business, and earned a fortune doing it.

If only things had stayed the same, Asmo thought, Serena would've been the queen of the school. Unfortunately, the year Serena started at Hogwarts, the son of this tight-ass aristocrat, Lucius Malfoy, started too, and Malfoy used his position on the Hogwart's board of governors to totally screw everything up. Malfoy's jerkface kid told his dad about the Slytherin parties, so they were banned. Professor Flitwick let Serena start a charms team, but it was cancelled after Malfoy complained to the British Ministry of Magic that it was "inappropriate." No more dueling club — Malfoy wrote an editorial in the _Prophet_ saying that kids could get hurt. Like quidditch was safe! Malfoy must've liked quidditch, though, because Serena said he tried to bully his kid onto the team as a first-year. Well, the joke was on him. That was the year Slytherin started losing to Gryffindor. Eventually Malfoy's kid played seeker, and from what Asmo heard from Serena, he _never_ caught the snitch. Between the Malfoys, who wanted to keep Hogwarts in the twelfth century, and Dumbledore, who had accepted Serena only under very strict conditions that basically disqualified her for awards and appointments, her whole school experience was whack.

Asmo stopped into Gladrags for a new cape, which he shipped home, and into Honeyduke's for some licorice snaps that really snapped. He took the candy with him and sat on a bench in a little grassy park area, where an old witch was playing even older songs on a harp. He couldn't understand why Belial didn't like this stuff. It was soothing. Sometimes he thought Belial didn't notice whether there was music playing or not. Asmo popped a handful of the snaps into his mouth and sucked on them them as they raced around his cheeks, biting with their tiny teeth. Finally he crunched them up while they were still hopping; they were better that way. The old-timey music made him think of all the thousands of generations of magical beings who had passed through Hogsmeade. He wondered what it would be like to live among wizards, to wear robes and cloaks and not have to worry about who saw you do what. That was a fantasy, he decided; he'd still have to worry about what people saw, and he supposed it would get old fast, trying to use magic as a substitute for technology. Seriously, owls?

He'd just swallowed another mouthful of snaps when someone called to him. "Oi, Serpentia!" Asmo turned to see someone entering the park. It was Marcus Flint, looking as funny as ever. It was the teeth, thought Asmo; he really should fix those. Asmo wondered what Flint was doing in Hogsmeade. Weren't the Falcons playing a home match in Falmouth this week? Flint dropped down on the bench beside Asmo. "Hey, mate, long time no see. How ya been?"

The two clapped hands. "Awesome. Really busy. What's up with you?"

"Not much 'til all this." Marcus waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the castle. "We're rebuilding the quidditch pitch."

"What, the Falcons wised up and canned your ass?"

"If you mean did they sack me, no, you rude duffer!" Flint shoved Asmo's shoulder. "Just thought I'd help put this place back together. Why're you here?"

"Just cooling my jets 'til Serena gives me the all-clear to check out the common room. I think she gutted it."

"Serena's here?" said Marcus, perking up and looking around as if he expected to see her pop up from behind a bush.

Asmo shoved Flint back, harder. "Back off, lil' dude. You had your chance."

Marcus rounded on Asmo. "I'm twenty-flippin'-five years old! I think you can give "lil' dude" a rest."

Asmo popped a handful of snaps into his mouth and grinned. "That right, lil' dude?"

Marcus snatched the bag of candy from Asmo and helped himself. "Piss off!" he said, mildly. He munched some snaps thoughtfully, staring at the old harpist. Asmo signed inwardly. Serena and Marcus had a relationship that was volatile, and due to their age difference, mostly imaginary.

The summer before Serena was to start Hogwarts, Asmo had taken her to visit the school. He thought if she could see the castle and Hogsmeade through his eyes, she's be happier about going there. He brought Seamus Finnegan, too, on the theory that his enthusiasm might be infectious. After meeting Hagrid, Madam Hooch and the school ghosts, Seamus was excited to the point of mania, but Serena was unmoved. Accepting defeat, Asmo took Serena and Seamus to New Forest, where the summer youth quidditch leagues were playing. Marcus Flint, newly-appointed captain of the Slytherin team, was also captain of his summer league squad, the Goshawks. After the match, which the Goshawks won, they found Marcus surrounded by admirers, mostly Slytherins and Southfielders. Marcus was in turn thrilled to see Asmodeus. He had assumed his brother's mantle as partymaster and was hosting his first event that evening, and what more impressive guests than the University-going Asmo and, if they were available, some of his fine American lady friends? Although Serena was too young to attend the party, Marcus gallantly drew an invite on her palm, and by the time he was done, Serena Serpentia had developed a strong and long-lasting crush on Marcus Flint.

While he was at Hogwarts, Serena was too young to interest Marcus, not that she didn't try her hardest to change his mind, even while she was dating the more age-appropriate Slytherin and Southfielder Adrian Pucey. But the summer after Marcus finally graduated — having had to repeat his seventh year — he saw Serena with fresh eyes. To celebrate his spot on the Falcon's second string, Marcus threw an epic midsummer bash, to which he invited Serena and her spectacular friends from the Academy of Magic, charms girls all. Marcus finally saw the charm in Serena, and the two were blazing as hot as the bonfire before them when the party took a historically dramatic turn. Serena's friend and cousin Stephanie got bored with the party and sifted home; once there, she explained why Serena had stayed behind to her older sister Nicole, who told their older sister Jessica, who told their oldest sibling Belial, who was offended that a Flint would consider himself worthy of his cousin and angry that Serena was demonstrating so little class. He immediately appeared at the soiree — concealing spells couldn't stop Belial — and came very close to incinerating the object of his wrath. It was only because the incomparable Annalise happened to be around, and happened to be very good with fire, that Marcus survived the night. In a development that surprised no one but Belial, his intervention inspired Serena to stick to Marcus like glue for the rest of the summer, until he left to play for the Falmouth Falcons. Serena continued to date Adrian Pucey, and Marcus went on to date a series of quidditch groupies, but the two kept finding ways to meet up, until one day Serena finally saw Marcus through Belial's eyes, and the whole thing came to a crashing halt.

Marcus turned back to Asmo and said, "Honestly, I'd like to see her. She up at the castle?"

"Don't go there, dude. Seriously, she'll tear your freaking head off."

"She's not still mad?"

Asmo shrugged in a "what can you do?" gesture. Marcus threw his head back and sharply sighed.

Apparently Belial's influence over Serena was insidious, because she began to resent anything Marcus did that reflected badly on her by association. She was annoyed when he was interviewed at a rough pub, spotted at a second-rate muggle nightclub, seen at a party at the Goyle's. The final straw was when he was photographed with a groupie who was patently too large for her unfashionable clothes. Serena didn't care who was on Marcus' social calendar, so long as they fulfilled the basic AMCLA requirements for glamour. To Serena, the fat chick was a slap in the face, and she was furious. This time it looked doubtful that she would ever speak to Marcus again.

"Sorry, mate," said Asmo.

Marcus smirked. "You sound funny when you say "mate."

"You sound funny every freaking day of the year!"

"I believe that between the two of us, I'm the one speaking proper English."

"It's not your accent, it's your damn teeth. Why don't you get those fixed?"

"I dunno. Why don't you fix your face?"

"My face doesn't make me look like Krusty the Clown."

"Who's that? Wait… was that an insult?"

Asmo grinned wickedly. "No way I'd insult _you_… lil' dude."

Marcus looked like he was about to reply, then he just chuckled. He clapped Asmo on the shoulder. "Good to see you, mate." He stood and said, "I gotta get goin'. Have to pick up some things for Flitwick."

Asmo stood also, and the two clasped hands and pounded each other on the back. "Take care, man," said Asmo. He stretched his legs as he watched Marcus leave the park and head into town, then sat down again to listen to the old witch's harp.

Asmo's encounter with Marcus had put him in a good mood, but as the music grew inside him he became more serious. The tunes the old witch chose reminded Asmodeus of his next stop, Ireland, where he was going to pay a little visit to Seamus Finnegan's mother, the surprisingly dangerous Eileen.

No one knew about Asmo's plans, not even Serena. Especially not Serena. If all went well, she would have a _praesul_, and she would never know how close she had come to losing her freedom. The only unfortunate thing about his plan, thought Asmo, was that no one would know what a hero he was.

Because Asmodeus knew a secret, one he wasn't planning to share with his family. He knew what that scheming Irish witch was trying to do. She was more than clever, he'd give her that; she'd almost succeeded. But he'd noticed incidents that had escaped the attention of his egocentric uncle and that idiotic granola of a witch he'd married. Asmodeus had figured out Eileen Finnegan's master plan, and now he was going to have his revenge. She dared an attempt to enslave Serena? Then the Serpentias would have her son. Forever.


	8. Joe's Jeopardy

**Saturday, 8 May, 1998. Naas, 9am**

Joe Finnegan whistled as he hosed down the small white pony. He was at the wash rack in one of the barns at Starlight Farms, the stables where he boarded Seamus' show horses. Joe was beyond thrilled that Seamus still had an interest in riding. With each passing year, his son was pulled further into his mother's magical world, where Joe couldn't follow. Horse riding, and show jumping in particular, was the one thing this muggle father and wizard son exclusively shared.

The pony belonged to Joe's niece, Emma, who had finished her lesson and was now doubled up with a friend on the bare back of a beleaguered Halflinger, who was probably wondering how the hell he had ended up in that crazy place.

And the place _was_ crazy on a summer Saturday morning. Classes at all levels were being taught, and boarders were hacking besides. Seamus was riding, and Dean Thomas had tagged along. From the nearest arena, Joe heard Seamus' trainer describe the next course to her class. "Wishing-well bending to the coop, diagonal line, in of the outside line bending to the brushbox, rolltop, crossrail rolling back to the out of the outside line."

Joe looked at the row of ponies he'd promised to get ready for the next junior lesson. They were all either muddy or sweaty, but he didn't want to hose them just before they went out. If only he had a way to dry them quickly…. or, he thought, looking toward the arena and catching the comical sight of long-legged Dean Thomas sitting on a small pony, his feet nearly touching the ground, maybe a way to avoid water entirely.

"Dean!" he called. Dean turned around and waved. "Dean, can you help me a mo'?" Dean tried to get his pony to turn around, but the little beast wasn't having any of it, so Dean slid off the its back (his left foot traveling mere inches to meet the ground) and led the pony back to the barn.

"Sure, Mr. Finnegan, what do you need?"

Joe looked around to make sure no one was in earshot, and said, "I'll be needing a little magic, lad."

Thanks to the _scourgify_ charm, twenty minutes later the ponies were clean and dry. One by one the young students ran in to claim their mounts, and soon the barn was quiet again. Now it was Joe's turn to ride; the next lesson was the one he and Seamus shared. Seamus was going to try out a new mare he was thinking of buying. But who should Joe jump today? He decided on Kazam, his oldest and dearest competition horse. He led the dark bay Dutch Warmblood from his stall to the crossties, and had just started to brush him when Kazam flung his head and backed up as far as he could, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

"Aw, don't be silly," said Joe in soothing voice, placing a firm hand on Kazam's shoulder, "There's a good boy."

Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw something red and sparkling in the barn aisle. He stepped out of the cross-tie niche just in time to see someone appear from a swirl of shiny red glitter. It was a young man with a coarse face and a fine suit. The man held a wand, and Joe raised his arms protectively in the manner Eileen had taught him and said, "Whoa there, lad! No need to obliviate _me!_"

But the stranger merely flicked his wand in the direction of the two large open barn doors, which didn't do anything to them as far as Joe could tell. Then the stranger smiled and said, "Wouldn't dream of it. Sorry if I scared you." For such an ugly fella, he had film-star teeth.

"You didn't scare me," said Joe, "but ye might be more careful where you apparate. It's mostly muggles around here. I know you're a foreigner and all…" Joe had noticed the man's American accent, "…but the Ministry won't thank you for making magic in front o' muggles."

The stranger now wore a very wide smile. Joe was very glad there wasn't anyone else about, because this one looked like something you'd meet down that Knockturn Alley. The stranger said, "Well, you're the only one around, so as long as you don't turn me in…."

"Well, of course I won't turn you… hang on! How'dja know I'm a muggle?" For the first time, Joe was alarmed. He was accustomed to weird-looking blokes popping in and out, but they usually assumed he was a wizard. How had this fella known?

Still wearing a smile — which really was quite chilling — the young man extended his hand. "Asmodeus Serpentia."

Joe felt a great wave of relief wash over him, and he realized that for the past minute, he'd been barely breathing. Joe smiled and shook the young man's hand. "Well, now! Ye had me goin' there. Joe Finnegan. But ye knew that."

"Sorry, Mr. Finnegan. Couldn't resist."

"Aw, call me Joe. You're the fella took Seamus to visit Hogwarts when he got his letter, weren't ye?"

"Yeah, that was me," said Asmodeus.

"I've been wonderin' when I'd finally get to meet darlin' Serena's family." Joe indicated one of the tack trunks in the barn aisle. "Have a seat. I know it's dusty, but you can use the _scourgify_ spell. I did say that right, didn't I?"

"You did," replied Asmodeus, "but…." he looked around, then raised an eyebrow. "_Muggles_, you know."

Joe could tell Asmodeus was pulling his leg. "Aw, now…. I was just bein' careful. Truth be told…" He looked around, put his hand to the side of his mouth, and said, "I used it myself not an hour ago. Had that Dean Thomas clean the ponies for me."

Asmodeus laughed and said, "I put a spell on the barn doors. No one can hear us." Joe took a carrot from his grooming box. He fed it to Kazam, who had long since lost his fear of Asmodeus and now appeared quite bored. As Joe looked back across the aisle, the trunk suddenly became spotless and Asmodeus sat down. For a moment it looked to Joe as if Serena's cousin hadn't used a wand, but of course that was impossible.

Joe picked up his brush and resumed grooming Kazam. Now that he wasn't afraid of being obliviated he was filled with curiosity.

"You the cousin with the big family?"

"No, that's Belial. I just have a sister."

"You all live out there in California?"

"More or less. I'm the only one who went to Hogwarts."

"So what brings you to Ireland? Serena's not here, you know. She had some business at Hogwarts."

"I know; I saw her yesterday."

"How's she doing? She says she's fine, but… well, what with all the terrible things that happened last year, I was never sure."

Why did this young fella seem amused by his question? Maybe he didn't realize just how bad it had been at Hogwarts, living so far away in America.

Asmodeus answered, "I think she's okay, judging by the way she played Slughorn."

"What's slughorn? Is that a game?"

Asmodeus laughed aloud. "Yeah…. yeah, I guess you could call it that. It's a game, and she won."

Joe stopped brushing Kazam for a moment. "Aw, c'mon now. Tell me the truth."

"That _is_ the truth, straight up. Slughorn's a professor, and Serena gave him a piece of her mind, and she got her way."

Joe felt a little disturbed. It wasn't like Serena to talk back to a teacher. He hoped she wasn't going to get into trouble. Warily, he asked, "Got her way about what?"

For the second time since Serena's cousin had appeared, Joe felt a sense of relief when Asmodeus said, "Decor. Serena hates the Slytherin common room." That was all right, then; no one would be mad at her for wanting to spruce up the dormitories. He asked, "She coming back, and you're to meet her?"

"No, she's going on to Antibes. Actually, I'm here to talk to Seamus."

Joe set down the brush, choose a hoofpick, and bent over to pick up Kazam's front foot. He called back to Asmodeus, "So what would ye be wantin' with Seamus?"

"I want him to come back to L.A. with me."

Joe straightened up. "He told me about the University there, but I think he wants to carry on at Hogwarts for an extra year. They're expanding the Care of Magical Creatures program, you see."

"This isn't about school," said Asmodeus. "It's about a job."

"A job, eh?" Joe bent over Kazam's back hoof. "A summer job?"

"No, a permanent one. A career."

Joe straightened again and moved to Kazam's other back hoof. "What kind of job could he get, straight out of school and not yet taken his exams?"

"A very good one."

Joe bent over again. "Define 'good'."

"Own-a-chain-of-restaurants good. Own this facility good. Own Olympic-caliber show jumpers good."

Joe straightened and moved to Kazam's final front hoof. He suspected that there was more — or less — to this job than Asmodeus was letting on. "Well, don't you know exactly what to say, " he remarked. Joe pointed at Asmodeus with the hoofpick. "But you'll forgive me if I find this improbable." He bent over Kazam's foot. "I know a thing or two about America. I was just hearing a program on the news. The people are angry because university costs so much, and there's practically nothing you can do without a university degree."

Joe straightened reached into his grooming box for another carrot. "And I heard that on the Wizard's Wireless, so they weren't talking about muggles. They were talking about your University of Magic schools."

Asmodeus casually leaned back against the wall. Joe wondered if he knew what he was doing to his fine dark suit. He wondered why he was wearing that suit anyway, on a Saturday, in the summer, in a stable. Asmodeus said, "Oh, he would have to go to school. He would need at least two degrees. But he would work at the same time. There're some things you gotta learn on the job."

"And what kind of job would this be?" asked Joe.

Asmodeus learned forward again, and with the air of someone confident that he was offering something desirable, he looked Joe straight in the eye and said, "Security."

"Security? Like…." Joe thought. The first thing that came to mind were the fellas who kept the crowds back when the Prime Minister came to town. But you didn't need a degree for that. Then he thought of computer networks. But magical folk didn't use computers, at least that's what Eileen had told him. That left the private contractors that filled in when an army was stretched too thin….

"Jaysus, no!" exclaimed Joe, "Seamus just finished fighting in one wizarding war; are you telling me there's to be another?"

Asmodeus looked confused. "Another war? Where'd you come up with that?"

"Why else would'ja need a security force?"

"_Corporate_ security."

Joe found this surprising, and it must have shown on his face, because Asmodeus said, "What, you've never heard of that? It's big business. My family's all into it. We think Seamus would be stellar. You don't like the idea?"

Joe said, "It's not that I don't like the idea, but, you see, as far as I could ever tell, the wizarding world is practically medieval. No one talks about corporations and such, nor the kinds of things corporations worry about, like… industrial espionage and… computer hacking. They don't _have_ computers, or video surveillance, or any of those sorts of things you read about in the business section. You know, in the muggle papers. They don't wear business suits and…. what's up with that suit, anyway?"

Asmodeus looked at his jacket. "This suit? What about it?"

"It's a Saturday. In June. And you're in a _barn._"

Asmodeus gave Joe a knowing grin. "I'm on the job."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"And what exactly are ye doin'?"

Asmodeus threw his hands up in the air. "I'm trying to recruit your kid!"

That took a moment to sink in; then Joe was both embarrassed and amused. He laughed as he fetched Kazam's saddle and bridle from the tack room. "Janey Mac! I'm slow on the uptake today!"

He returned to his horse, hung the bridle on a nearby the bridle hook, and started to saddle up. "So tell me more about this thing you have goin'. Are you telling me that there are wizards working in the muggle world?"

It turned out to be something similar. The Serpentia family had business concerns that sold products and services to muggles. Joe was fascinated. Imagine wizards who didn't hide away in their own communities! Once the saddle was on Kazam, Joe sat next to Asmodeus on the trunk as the young man described his family's dealings in the muggle world. There were many things Joe wanted to ask, but they were interrupted by Seamus, who called for his father as he led his horse into the barn.

"Dad, are you ready? We're waiting for you!"

Asmodeus stood as Seamus entered. "Asmo!" called Seamus, "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, dude. 'Been talking to your Dad."

The two young men clapped hands as Joe said, "And he's been tellin' me some very interestin' stuff."

"Really?" said Seamus.

"Did you know that there are wizards who do business with muggles?"

"Sure, Dad."

"Well, this is the first I'm hearing of it. Why didn't your mother ever mention it?"

"I dunno, but you can ask her yourself; she came to watch our lesson. Which, by the way, you're late for, so…."

"Sorry! Sorry! Just have to bridle…."

Joe stood to cross the aisle, but stopped as Eileen appeared with a loud CRACK that caused him — and the horses — to jump.

"Sorry, dear," said Eileen, "Didn't mean to startle you."

Joe clutched his hand to his heart. "Jaysus, Eileen! I think you'd be more careful! It's bad enough Seamus' friend here popped in, but you should know bet…."

His voice trailed off as Eileen shrieked and pointed her wand straight at Asmodeus. Her hand shook, but her voice was strong as she shouted,

"Step away from my family! Step away!"

"Mam! What are you doing?" cried Seamus.

Eileen ignored him and jabbed her wand in Asmo's direction. Asmodeus raised his hands and said, "I'm not armed."

Joe was flabberghasted. "Eileen, darlin', don't you know who this is?"

Never taking her eyes from Asmodus, she snarled, "I know who, and _what_, he is!"

"I don't think you do! This is Serena's cousin, Asmodeus. He's a wizard from California."

"That man is no wizard!"

"Of course he's a wizard! He went to Hogwarts! He does magic with a wand!"

Seamus stepped between Eileen and Asmodeus. Joe was surprised to see he looked angry.

"Seamus! Get away!" shouted Eileen.

"No, Mam, I won't! You're acting crazy! In fact, you've been acting funny since yesterday, and now out of the blue you're attacking Asmo! I'm not moving until you tell me why."

Joe realized that Eileen looked a lot more scared than Asmodeus. In fact, Asmo didn't look frightened at all. A hard and calculating look came over his face, making Joe wonder anew how someone so beastly managed to interact with muggles. Asmodeus slowly lowered his hands and crossed his arms over his chest. Sounding far colder than before, he said,

"If I were you, Eileen, I'd consider my next move very carefully. This barn is full of beautiful horses. It is also full of hay. I would hate for there to be any…. accidents."

Joe was suddenly seized with fear. So many things to go wrong! He said hastily, "Maybe it's best if you do go, lad, until we can clear this up."

Without taking his eyes from Eileen, Asmo said, "Actually, Joe, I think it's more dangerous for you right now. Why don't you take Kazam and leave?"

"Now, see here…."

"Both of you go!" snapped Seamus. He turned to Asmodeus. "Go with my Dad, and I'll talk to you later."

"Joe Finnegan, don't you dare leave with that man!"

Joe was fed up. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on!"

"Don't swear, Uncle Joe!"

They all froze at the high, sweet voice of Joe's niece, Emma, who had walked into the barn unnoticed. Joe's heart sank; what if Emma had seen…. dammit! Eileen was still pointing her wand! Joe thought fast.

"I'm sorry, Emma," he said, forcing a smile on his face and walking towards her, "That was rude of your Uncle Joe. Why don't we take Kazam out to the arena together, and you can tell me all about your lesson."

He held out his hand to his niece, but she wasn't distracted. "Why is Aunt Eileen pointing that stick?"

Son of a bitch! Eileen was still holding that thing!

"And who is _that?_ Emma pointed at Asmodeus.

Asmo unfolded his arms and bent down closer to Emma's height. "I'm Asmodeus. I'm a friend of…."

"Get away from her!" A steam of scarlet light flashed from Eileen's wand and hit Asmodeus in the shoulder. Seamus shouted as Asmodeus snarled and raised his right hand. Joe was horrified to see that his palm was filled with white fire.

"No! Don't!" Joe shouted desperately, but before Asmo could throw the fire, he was blasted straight up in the air, crashed into the ceiling, and fell back onto the cement in a broken heap.

"Eileen!" shouted Joe. "You didn't _kill_ him?"

"It wasn't me!" said Eileen in a shaky voice. "It was Seamus."

"It wasn't me!" cried Seamus, kneeling by Asmodeus, "I don't have a wand!"

They all looked around wildly before they noticed Emma, her little hands still up, fingers spread, as if she were pushing something away from her. Her eyes never left Asmodeus as she said in a small voice, "I didn't mean to hurt him. I just wanted to put out the fire."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Joe knelt down to hug his niece.

"That's all right, Emma," he said, "We'll call the doctor. He'll be just fine."

Joe looked up at Eileen, and realized that despite the weirdness of the day, he was feeling a strange sense of satisfaction.

"Well, then, Miss Witch," he said, "Maybe Seamus didn't get his magic from _your_ side of the family after all."


	9. Fred's Funeral

**Saturday, 8 May, 1998. The Burrow, 10am**

Harry Potter appeared with a sharp "crack" in the field just beyond the Weasley's orchard. Harry couldn't hear the apparition sound himself, and he rather hoped no one else had, either, because hadn't quite made up his mind if he wanted to be there or not. On the one hand, he felt that he really should provide support to the Weasley family on the day of Fred's funeral. On the other, he feared that his presence would would be an improper distraction, taking attention away from Fred and the people who were most interested in honoring him. And if he had possessed third and fourth hands, he would have used them to weigh his own desire to avoid stares and whispers against his desire to see Ginny.

Too late — Hermione appeared at the gate and spotted him. She waved, then turned her head back to look at someone inside the orchard walls. Whomever it was must have called her away, because she left the gate, but Harry knew she would tell everyone he'd arrived. He shouldered his rucksack, which contained a new set of dress robes in the color George had requested — magenta — and trudged to the orchard. Apparently it was Fred who had insisted on magenta robes for the employees of Weasely's Wizarding Wheezes because it made him feel energetic. Why George thought a magenta theme would honor Fred, Harry didn't understand, but he supposed it would be nicer than the black that muggles always wore for funerals.

Harry had been coming and going between the Weasley's, Hogwarts and Number 12, Grimmauld Place for the past week, never feeling comfortable anywhere. He feared that all his random wanderings might be annoying Ginny, but he needn't have worried. The moment he stepped through the gate, Ginny ran up and wrapped her arms tight around him. He buried his face in her hair, which always smelled so good, and held her for a long moment. They were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley, who called to Harry from the garden. Harry and Ginny smiled at each other, and without saying a word, they turned and walked arm-in-arm to join the others.

—

As Harry had expected, Fred's funeral was very large and very public. Wizards came from far and wide to pay their respects. Even the Daily Prophet was there, thankfully represented by a discreet reporter who seemed sincerely impressed by Fred and George's anti-Voldemort efforts. Harry could tell that Molly Weasley was rather stunned by great numbers of people who were acquainted with Fred because of the joke shop and his investigative reporting for _Potterwatch_. When Harry pointed this out to Hermione, she said, "Well, of course! A mother is always the last to realize that her children have their own lives."

It was a stunningly beautiful day: sunny, not too warm, not too breezy — the perfect day for quidditch, Harry thought. He grinned to himself, thinking about the times he and Ron had played against Fred and George above the very spot he was standing. Harry watched as the mourners crossed the orchard from the gate to the reception area and signed the guest book. He didn't recognize many of them, but he smiled at those he did: Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Luna and her father, Neville and his grandmother. Greeting and seating were handled by Hermione, Fleur, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour, Gabrielle Delacour and Verity, Fred and George's very first employee. Harry, Ron, Percy and Charlie stood nervously near the speaker's podium, silently rehearsing their remarks, while Bill attended to his mother, who became increasingly distraught as the hour of the ceremony neared. Ginny and Mr. Weasley helped George put the finishing touches on a visual tribute to Fred, which would play on a large, cinema-screen-like canvas.

While the Weasley's orchard was large, they couldn't exactly remove the trees to make room for chairs, so while family and close friends sat in the area that just one year ago had been the scene of Bill and Fleur's wedding, a large crowd of people were fanned out into the orchard, standing and sitting among the trees, or floating above on enchanted carpets and sofas. Those who spoke during the service would use the _sonorus_ charm to amplify their voices.

George had apparently been serious about the magenta theme, which applied not just to the family's dress robes, but to Fred's coffin as well. It rested on the same platform as the podium, covered in flowers and notes that were magically attached to it by people who filed by to pay their respects. Harry felt relieved that the coffin was closed.

Finally, Mr. Weasley, George and Ginny emerged from the house. Mr. Weasley mounted the platform and asked everyone to take their seats. Harry and Hermione took their places in the first row of chairs with the Weasley family. The wizard who had presided over Bill's wedding stepped up to the podium, and the funeral ceremony for Fred Weasley began.

-

Talking about Fred to the large crowd of mourners wasn't as bad as Harry had anticipated. Never in his years at Hogwarts had Harry given a classroom presentation, and as he mounted the platform he felt a sense of dread. What if his remarks were ridiculous? What if he couldn't follow his notes? What if he completely forgot what he wanted to say? However, once Harry began to speak, addressing the crowd didn't feel any different to him than addressing the Gryffindor quidditch team, or the D.A. (It helped that he could see members of both in the audience.) As he left the platform, Harry felt he had done a good job. He wasn't as entertaining as Charlie or as profound as Bill, but he thought he had captured his memories of Fred pretty well.

The real star of the ceremony turned out to be Ron. After saying a few brief words, he introduced George and his special presentation. Unfortunately, almost as soon as he began, George was overcome by emotion and couldn't continue. After an uncomfortable silence, Ron joined George at the podium, put his arm around him, and without any rehearsal or a single glance at George's script, delivered an eloquent and touching tribute to his brother. As the presentation progressed, Ron asked George a few key questions, drawing George back into the proceedings, and by the end the two were trading remembrances. Harry glanced over at Hermione and saw tears in her eyes that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with grief. He understood; he was proud of Ron, too.

When the ceremony concluded, the mourners filed by the Weasley family's row of chairs to offer their condolences. All the family stood except George, who remained seated, his head in his hands. Many people looked as though they wanted to say something to him, but everyone left him alone; no one wanted to disturb him. Harry, Hermione and Lee sat in the chairs behind the family, waiting to see if they could be of any help. When the line of guests finally petered out, and the older Weasleys were deep in conversation with close friends, Harry noticed a raven with an envelope in its mouth hopping up and down in front of George. Harry was very puzzled; he'd never heard of a messenger raven. He nudged Hermione and Lee, who looked as mystified as he felt. Hermione gently laid a hand on George's shoulder and said, "George, I think you have a letter."

George straightened up and looked at Hermione with red eyes, then turned to look in the direction she was pointing. When he saw the bird, he didn't look surprised. He took the envelope from the raven, which flew away, and opened it. Inside was a stiff white card with a few large lines of calligraphy written in blue ink. Whatever it said made George chuckle in a sad, watery way. He wiped his eyes and put the note in the pocket of his robe, leaving the envelope on the seat beside him.

"You okay, mate?" asked Lee, climbing over the back of a chair to sit next to George. "You want to get out of here for a while? Away from all these people?"

"I dunno," answered George despondently.

"Or we could go sit with the old team. They all stayed…. look, here's Angelina now."

Angelina, somehow managing to look elegant in her magenta dress robes, was heading their way. As she arrived, she said, somewhat apologetically, "Excuse me, George, but Hagrid has something he wants to show you. I told him I didn't know if you'd feel up to it —"

"No, it's fine," said George quickly, standing and turning to look for Hagrid, who wasn't hard to spot. As George, Lee and Angelina walked away, Harry noticed something fluttering to the ground.

"Hey, George, I think you dropped —" started Harry, but George was talking to his friends and didn't hear. Harry picked up the card and glanced at it.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, "You're not going to _read_ that? It might be private!" As if he hadn't heard, Harry said, "Hermione, what do you make of this?"

"I really couldn't say, because I don't read other people's —"

"Just look!" Harry thrust the card under her nose. Whether she intended to read the card or not, it was impossible for someone with Hermione's reading skills not to instantly absorb the simple message. It said, "We're very sorry for your loss. Don't give up on the Fred & George. It's still mega." It was signed "J & N."

Hermione looked puzzled. She picked up the envelope that George had abandoned on the chair and turned it over. It was unmarked except for George's name. "What do you think it means?" she asked Harry.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I was hoping _you_ could tell _me_.

"It sounds like a shop, doesn't it?" asked Hermione, "But what's 'mega'?"

"I dunno," said Harry. Before they could discuss it further, Bill came up to Hermione.

"Ready to do the tables?"

"Of course!" said Hermione. She drew her wand, and she and Bill transfigured some of the chairs into round tables with magenta tablecloths and arranged the remaining seats around them. Then they joined a group of grandmotherly witches who were creating a very long banquet table. Witches and wizards who appeared to be Weasley friends and relations began piling the banquet table with food and beverages. Unlike Bill's wedding, which was funded by Molly and Arthur, the meal after Fred's funeral was donated by the Weasleys' loved ones.

Harry felt a little useless, but no one seemed to need any help, and Harry didn't want to join any conversations; he wanted to avoid any talk of Voldemort and the battle for as long as he could. He sat alone at one of the tables near the platform, watching the remaining guests, until Ginny joined him.

"Hey you," she said, taking a seat to his right.

"Hey you," he said back, smiling. Her hand was on the table, and he put his over it and gave a gentle squeeze. "You okay?" Ginny wasn't one to cry or look sorrowful, so Harry wasn't sure how difficult the ceremony had been for her.

Ginny gave him a tight smile. "I'm okay," she said. Harry instantly knew she was not. He was trying to think of something helpful to say when Hermione rejoined them, accompanied by Ron. Unlike Ginny, Ron looked morose. His eyes were red, and his face pale. The biggest sign that he was upset, however, was that he hadn't stopped at the buffet table for a large plate of food.

"Ron, are you sure I can't get you something?" asked Hermione, as they sat to Harry's left, "You haven't eaten anything all day."

"No," said Ron, not looking at any of them. He stared off into the crowd instead. Hermione seemed distressed, but Harry caught her eye and shook his head. He knew Ron's moods very well, and in this situation it was best to leave him be. They all sat in silence for a moment. Then Harry noticed George talking to Professor McGonagall — who looked very odd indeed in her magenta robe and hat — and was reminded of the mysterious note.

"Ginny," he asked, turning to her, "Were Fred and George planning a new shop?"

Ginny looked surprised. "I don't think so," she replied, "Why, did George say something?"

"No," said Harry, pulling the card out of his robe pocket, "But he received this after the ceremony. He dropped it as he was walking away to see Hagrid."

"Harry! That's a private note!" scolded Hermione, but Ginny read it with interest.

"'The Fred and George?'" she asked, "Are you sure it's not something like…. like…." she looked up at the sky, composing her thoughts, "Like saying that they'll always be a team, even though Fred…." She swallowed. "… Even though Fred isn't here on earth?"

Disapproving though she was, Hermione couldn't keep from answering. "I don't think so." She paused and added gently, "Although that _is_ a lovely thought." Businesslike again, she said, "'Mega' sounds like a description, and 'it's' seems to refer to a thing. I think it's a business venture."

"There's something else, too," said Harry, "It wasn't delivered by owl. It was carried by a raven. Have you ever heard of that?"

Ginny looked thoughtful. "Yes, I have, but it's a very old-fashioned thing to do. Mum's talked about the old families who still use ravens for special correspondence. The only person I've ever seen use one is Serena Serpentia."

Harry was startled; he hadn't expected to hear that name fall so casually from Ginny's lips. Ginny mistook his expression for unfamiliarity. "You know her! She's a Slytherin. She was Head Girl this year. Wouldn't she have been in some of your classes? She was in your Arithmancy class, wasn't she, Hermione?"

Hermione stood up suddenly and said forcefully, "I'm _really_ hungry. And so are _you_, Ronald!" Ron, who hadn't been following the conversation, looked confused as Hermione grabbed his hand and literally dragged him away.

"What was that about?" asked Ginny, open-mouthed.

Harry's heart sank. Obviously Ginny didn't know how much Hermione had always complained about Serena, and he certainly hadn't told Ginny anything about the scene at the Malfoy's. He said, simply, "Hermione and Serpentia don't get on very well."

Ginny looked confused. "No one gets on with her very well, but they don't leave the table when her name is mentioned!"

Harry didn't feel this was the right time for the whole story, especially after everything he'd learned the morning after the battle. Perhaps Harry _had_ missed some of the action at the Malfoy's. He continued, "Anyway, this card is signed 'J&N'."

"And Mrs. Serpentia uses an owl for letters," said Ginny.

"How do you know that?"

"She sent a condolence card."

Now it was Harry's turn to be open-mouthed. "Why would she do that?"

Ginny said impatiently, "Really, Harry, all the old pureblood families know each other."

"Your parents know the Serpentias?"

Now Ginny looked exasperated. "They know the _D'Arcys_. That's Serena's mum's family. _They're_ decent." Ginny left little doubt as to which side of the D'Arcy-Serpentia family she would _not_ invite to dinner.

"So they weren't Death-Eaters."

"The D'Arcy's? I highly doubt it. When Mum won that recipe contest sponsored by the Potions Society, the reception for the finalists was at the D'Arcy's. We all went. I don't think Mum and Dad would've taken us if the hosts were Death Eaters." She paused. "Come to think of it, if I remember correctly, the Malfoy's tried to gate-crash, and they were turned away."

"Why would the Malfoy's have tried to crash a party for recipe contestants?"

"They're neighbors. Maybe they thought they'd be welcome."

"Maybe they're cheap bastards who wanted a free meal," said Harry darkly.

Ginny snickered. "You're probably right!"

"What about the Serpentias?" continued Harry, "Do your parents think _they_ were Death Eaters?"

Ginny knit her brow, giving the question some serious thought. "There was a Serpentia in Bill's year. He was a beater for the Slytherins. He used to like whacking bludgers into the Gryffindors. But I remember when I was small, Bill and Charlie and all the quidditch players in the entire school were given free tickets to a quadpot exhibition, and Bill said it was arranged by "that Serpentia git."

"None of that means proves they were or weren't Death Eaters."

"Well, Serena's Dad went to Durmstrang. He's from the States, and Durmstrang is somewhere in eastern Europe. No one goes out of their way attend Durmstrang unless they want to learn dark magic. But on the other hand, Serena caught me out after hours a number of times this year, and she never reported me. Why would she do that if she didn't support the protests by the D.A.?"

"You're not the first person who's told me Serpentia hid stuff from the Carrows," said Harry. "But I can't believe she just let you all go."

"Oh, she didn't let us go!" replied Ginny, "She just didn't tell the Carrows exactly what we'd done. If she had they would've chained us up in the dungeons. She told them we didn't finish our homework, and we had to go to this special detention that Snape put her in charge of. If she liked you, she would think of something really hard you had to learn, like a really advanced charm, and you had to stay until you could do it, even if you had to stay up all night and keep coming back for days. I think the record was Jimmy Peakes with fourteen nights in a row."

"That's if she _liked_ you?" asked Harry.

Ginny smirked. "Yes, believe it or not. Me and Parvati even had fun. We had to learn these routines that the quaddo charms girls do." At Harry's blank expression, she clarified, "That's what they call quadpot in the States. There are these girls who come out during breaks in the game to dance and do charms in time to the music. It's really hard, but it's a laugh, too."

"And if she _didn't_ like you…?" asked Harry with some trepidation.

"Oh, it was awful. Romilda Vane didn't know the _scourgify_ charm, so Serena brought out these absolutely nauseating jars of putrid preserved bits of heaven-knows-what, and said that every jar Romilda couldn't instantly clean with _scourgify_ she had to wash out by hand. Romilda learned the charm, but she stank for a week."

Not being the greatest fan of Romilda Vane, who had several times tried to trick him into drinking a love potion, Harry was amused. He asked, "Is that what Neville meant when he said Serpentia saved some of the students from being tortured by the Carrows?"

"No, that was something else. You see, she was able to…." Ginny suddenly seemed uncomfortable, and looked away. "Well, I mean, yes, that's what she did. Because if you did something really bad, the Carrows would have the Defense classes practice _cruciatus_ on you. But if you'd just neglected your homework…." Ginny's voice trailed off when she looked at Harry, whose irritation must have shown on his face. He felt absolutely certain that Ginny had almost spilled a secret, and he was rather nonplussed that Ginny was keeping any kind of secrets from him.

"That's not what you were going to say!" accused Harry. When Ginny just stared at him, he said forcefully, "_Well?_"

Ginny shook her head, and said defiantly, "That _is_ what happened!"

Harry countered, "But you were going to say something else."

"No I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!" Harry's voice rose, and people stared curiously at their table. Not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, Harry lowered his voice, but spoke with intensity. "What was Serpentia able to do?"

"Leave it alone, Harry!" declared Ginny forcefully as she stood. Now people really were looking at them. Ginny was uncharacteristically tearful as she said, "I don't want to talk about it any more! Not today! Not…." She turned abruptly and marched away toward the house, leaving Harry to stare helplessly after her. He jumped when he heard voices beside him.

"Don' worry about it, Harry. She's a tough little thing, but inside, I know she's all broken up about her brother."

Another voice said, "Yes, Harry, I'm sure she'll forgive you for being thoughtless."

It was Hagrid and Luna. As usual, Luna had expressed an uncomfortable truth; Harry realized that he shouldn't have criticized Ginny at her brother's funeral. But how did Luna know he'd been thoughtless? Harry supposed it had been an obvious guess. He stood and said, "Excuse me, but I'd better go talk to her."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Harry," said Luna. "You'll just start arguing all over again."

"We weren't arguing!"

"It certainly sounded like an argument."

"I think Luna's ri', Harry," said Hagrid. "Jes' give 'er some time."

Harry signed. Maybe they were right, and he'd better give Ginny a break from him for a while. He craned his neck to look up at Hagrid and said, "All right then. Why don't you join me?"

Hagrid pulled out the chair Ginny had vacated, and three others besides, and sat across them all; Luna sat next to Hagrid. Hagrid's bright magenta shirt was quite overwhelming, but on Luna, bright magenta robes, paired with bright orange dangling earrings, looked perfectly normal.

They talked about the upcoming school year. Hagrid seemed genuinely relieved that Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank was head of the new expanded Care of Magical Creatures program, with Hagrid as her assistant. He said, "I know ye always like my classes, Harry, so ye might not've known that most o' the students… well, I'm not really tha' good'a teacher."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hagrid!" said Harry, simultaneously with Luna's "That's all right, Hagrid; you're good at other things."

Harry wished Luna hadn't been so blunt, but Hagrid didn't seem to mind. Harry wondered if maybe he, and Ron and Hermione had been making a mistake all those years, insisting to Hagrid that his classes were just fine. Maybe he'd been miserable teaching.

Their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley, who appeared at Harry's left side with a large plate from the buffet table. She set it in front of Harry, saying, "Now, there'll be no arguments! You haven't eaten a thing all day!"

Harry glanced anxiously at the house, but saw no sign of Ginny. He didn't feel hungry at all, and was about to make an excuse to Mrs. Weasley, but Hagrid said,

"Now isn't it nice, Harry, to have something pleasant to do for emten more minutes?/em" He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at Harry.

"What's happening in ten minutes?" asked Mrs. Weasley suspiciously. They were spared an answer when Charlie walked up and took a seat.

"I see mum's force-feeding you, too. Best do as she says," he advised, "or she'll make you eat even more for dinner."

Mrs. Weasley whacked Charlie on the head with a napkin, which made Harry grin. With sudden inspiration, he said, "Sit down and join us, Mrs. Weasley," he said.

Mrs. Weasley hesitated. "C'mon, Mum," said Charlie, "You've talked to enough people."

"Yeah, Mrs. Weasley, you can supervise me. To make sure I eat."

"Oh, all right," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry stood and pulled out the seat next to his. "Thank you, Harry, dear," said Mrs. Weasley as she settled herself. "But let's not have any more of this "Mrs. Weasley" nonsense. I've told you before, you're part of the family. You should call me Molly."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had, indeed, told Harry and Hermione that they needn't stand on ceremony with them anymore. Harry had no trouble calling Ron's dad "Arthur," but for some reason he was considerably less comfortable calling Mrs. Weasley by her first name. Fortunately he was supposed to be eating, so he just grinned and he made sure he spent several minutes with a full mouth.

One by one, close friends and family began gathering at the table: Ted and Andromeda Tonks, Hestia Jones of the Order, Harry's old quidditch captain Oliver Wood, and Neville, whose grandmother had already apparated back home. The conversation bolstered Harry's resolve to give Ginny a little space, but this evaporated when Ron and Hermione finally came over, floating before them large pitchers of pumpkin juice and goblets. As Hermione poured juice for all, she asked, "Where's Ginny?"

"I dunno," Harry admitted, "She went inside a while ago. Maybe I should check on her." Surely enough time had passed; maybe she wasn't upset with him anymore. "Excuse me," he said as he left the table for the house.

He found Ginny in the family room, lying on the sofa with her head on the armrest, looking out the window. It was dim and cool and peaceful in the room, and Harry wasn't sure he should disturb her. But she must have felt his presence, because she turned her head and looked at him with a calm and steady gaze. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with regret, and the words tumbled out of him.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said as he crossed the room to stand by the foot of the sofa, "I shouldn't've kept after you like that. I was all wrapped up in my own…. I was acting like I was the great expert at everything, and I'm not. Especially at a funeral. I mean…. I especially shouldn't have been hounding you at Fred's funeral. I was…." Maybe Luna had said it best. "I was thoughtless."

Ginny regarded him for a moment, then swung her legs down from the sofa and patted the seat. Harry sat down and said, "Try again?"

Ginny nodded.

Struck by sudden inspiration, Harry stuck out his hand and said, "Hi! I'm Harry Potter. I like ice cream, quidditch, and long walks on…. the quidditch pitch. And you are…?"

Ginny burst into laughter, drawing up her legs, throwing her head back and rocking back and forth, which made Harry laugh, and each time they looked at each other, they laughed some more. Harry's sides were aching when he noticed someone in the doorway.

It was George, resplendent in his magenta robe, leaning against the frame, arms folded, with a genuine smile on his face.

"Now _that_, he said, "Is what this funeral is supposed to be all about."


End file.
